Jan. 3, 2012 Firing

My kiln bulges, recent works,
Boxes, bowls, and small figures.
Shino platters, tea-cups sure,
Poetry, shards, and raw sculptures.
A firing packed with experiments,
Successes, failures, accidents.
I make of clay a small kiln God,
Soon I'll the turn the pilots on.

Wolves

Through the snow I circled back,

Then saw below that wolfen track,

His mate had joined him further on,

To follow me and spy upon.