This Morning I Rose From My Blue-Grey Rest

This morning I rose from my blue-grey rest

and said,"Sun,

I am thirsty and cold!"

And Sun,

with motherly tenderness,

filled my outstretched bowl.



She made her sweetest honey tea,

that licked curved walls as she poured

golden waves into
clay bowl of blue
until it overflowed!

 -

onto my face
spilling down my cheeks,
and across the bridge of my nose. Seeping
under my skin,

she warmed me for weeks,
flowing through my
porcelain bones.