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The Dream

Posted on October 15 2017

My first glass poem.

In the dream
I chased the glass rod
With flame.
Now here I sit, rod in hand
Before its heat…
Glass, slowly softening,
Rotated by shy hand,
Glowing, moving…
My first tear-drops fall.
At last we are together,
Learning Gather and Stress,
Watching small explosions,
The shattering of glass
Heated too fast
In my anxiety to get results.
Slow down…
Take time to learn.

With practised ease

My teacher takes a wand,

The mandrel.

Heating rod,

She slowly winds a bead

A bead,

Before my very eyes…

Time races by,

Colored glass curls round,

Cooling in the soft end

Of the flame.

At the end of the day

My fingers with familiar grace

wed gold and glass,

And, smiling,

See new earrings born…

The dream become reality.

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