for the birds

for the birds

nana rests on the rest of the block of clay she rode in on.

grandpa is on the potter’s wheel, giving me the stink-eye.

the two of them took about an hour and a half to make.

“i didn’t ask to be hatched,” grandpa seems to be saying, but his daughter is less harsh

and pleads with me wordlessly to give her at least nine eggs to nurture.

they are unfinished, and i will spend more time than i usually do to spruce them up.

i suspect grandpa wants to be admired.

his daughter wants chicks.

i will see what i can do.