Picurís Pottery

                                    The pottery sparkles of mica.

                                    Fired beneath piñon bonfires, black streaks

                                    Mark each pot.

                                    Between your palms

                                    Each has a curious tone and warmth.

                                    As you leave the potters' hall,

                                    A strange mood follows you;

                                    A subtle hue of someone old nearby.

                                    Days later you hear the fashioned clay

                                    Hum at night in your hands.

                                                            -- C.S. Cholas

                                                                 Picurís, New Mexico 1979