Basket 
After Jane Hirshfield

If my eyes fall on the basket 
sitting on my dresser,
I marvel for the millionth time
at the skill and time it took
to create a vessel of such beauty 
and strength, echoing the beauty
and strength of the hands that
shaped it and I marvel at the time
we visited the little shop
on the reservation where it was so
hard to choose just one and I marvel
now at the beauty and strength of you,
how I took it for granted, how hard it is 
to choose just one memory of us 
together, happy I don’t have to. 

Na/GloPoWriMo day 13 – I’m off prompt again today. I was reading some Jane Hirshfield this morning when her poem “The Bowl” inspired me to write about an object, although my poem went in a different direction. Isn’t it funny how a poem creates its own path regardless of the poet’s intention?