Acts Of Creation

Sometimes, I think in very small increments: a day, a moment, a world, a lump of clay. If I am at all like my mysterious Maker, it is in this - I make. If I could make half as well as Gerard Manley Hopkins, it would be wonderful. But I should be content.

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Let us make today a pot,
Raw earth at hand, a present spot,
Water of life to mould,
To smooth and turn, to fold -
And then today will be our pot.

Today the heat of life, a sun;
The earth is dry, the earth has none
Of what would otherwise
Bind grain to wood, realise -
The pot is not, the day is done.

And is tomorrow’s pot the same,
Inspired by the inner flame?
Never will the image be
The thing I saw, I see -
Each day, each pot; new pot, new name.