The Potter

Rise from the ash,
dust away days
of ill lit mucky
muddles.
Ware me some
earthen dreams
of yours,
in the jiggering
in the jollying
in the turning
of warm nestling
clay...
nuzzling hands, snug - tight...
and rising
and coiled together
in wanting,
to whirl and whirl
like the dancing
twilight fireflies
all fired up,
and shining
glaze in a new coat
We'll find your coat again.
We can find your coat again...
the right one, the bright one.
With a light in the pocket
even as late as midnight.
It's never too late for love.