Rik George writes

Ceramic Insects

Ceramic insects
Shelter under the fan palm
Waiting for rain to fall.
Overhead the clouds are full
And spill over on the ground.

She glazed and fired them
With exotic hues unknown
To the natural bugs
Biologists have labeled.
She treasured her artifacts.

I keep them under
The fan palm in my backyard.
I treasure them, too,
Because she made them. She died,
My kid sister whom I loved.

I go to watch them
And think of the happy times
We had together
Before she made the insects,
 Before she left for Heaven.




-- Anna Collette Hunt