The water frozen in the cracks
of this worn asphalt road
glints in the sun, reminding
me of Japanese potters who stuffed
gold into the cracks of pots
which surrendered to the kiln’s
heat, reminding me
of my own flaws needing tending.
Namaste...
Oh, but can you imagine being able to fill our flaws with gold? Such a beautiful poem, Linda. So nice I read it three times.
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