by Kathryn White Ryan
A bowl in my hand is the earth:
My two palms can encircle the girth
Of this carved fragile thing in my hold --
Turquoise and lacquer and gold.I lift it and turn it and see
The sun on its rim like a bee:
Over skies, over seas, over farms,
I have run with it safe in my arms.
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How to Grow Vegetables
