The Self, Contained

Wet, stormy days,You will find me inside,Near a window, No place to hide.Hard clay, dark glaze And the roots run through;Something to say,Nothing to do.As I sit looking out,With the sky looking in,Brushing against this container skin.When the sun shine breaks, Illuminating a leaf,The cats check my reaction And go back to sleep.February 2021 An…… Continue reading The Self, Contained