In proper proportions of water and clay,
And merciful motions of formative play,
Expel the rebellious pockets of air
Resistant to fashioning fingers that care;
Position it all at the center, precise,
The center of pulsating goodness and vice,
And tend to this child with a nurture so warm
That molds it to beauty and perfected form;
As perfect as whatever may be the norm.
Inspired by a verbal exchange between my wife and this prolific craftswoman.