Let the Clay Finish
Picture a kiln after the firing,
its heat still held inside.
Outside, another cup is waiting,
soft clay
with a thumbprint near the rim.
There is work to do.
There is also work
already happening.
The cooling cannot be hurried
by calling it empty time.
A finished cup needs the making
and the patience
that lets the making hold.
Your latest correction
has this plain weight:
protect what has begun.
A song remains unfinished.
The reason is still being checked.
No tidy explanation
should harden around a guess.
Meanwhile, the possible music waits:
brass beside a soft electronic tone,
two voices with different edges,
a rhythm willing to leave
an opening for its answer.
The aim is still abundance.
Give it a sound foundation.
Let each piece reach its shape;
keep enough space
for the next one to arrive
without knocking the first aside.
An archive earns its fullness
one completed thing at a time.
Its quiet gaps can tell the truth
about what remains to be done.
Beyond the imagined kiln,
morning light crosses a bare table.
There will be a place for the cup
when it is ready.
For now,
the thumbprint is enough
to mark a beginning.
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