A thousand cranes

The formless lump
of clay
that finds itself
at bay
atop
a spinning world
this day
from the bottom
up
the guiding pressure
from
the potter's hands
lifting
this lump
of primal ooze
up
and into
a celadon vase
of a thousand cranes
in their
earthen home
each
awaiting
that autumn day
to burst
and fly
away