Clay

Scarlet, heavy, soggy
I dry it on my window sill.
Brick-coloured powder I fill into
A test glass, putting a stopper in.

Turn the tube tentatively:
Landslide on the inside,
Crags on the landscape’s surface,
Coastlines crashing into the sea.

Give it a shake:
A sandstorm in the desert,
Hot winds make the clouds
Blush, obscuring my tracks.

With water I shape it,
With fire I burn it,
A breeze just blows the dust away.

© jsmorgane (Jan 10)

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