Concerts of Space

I was looking at a friend’s bookshelf
        this morning
and I thought I saw a book with the title:
        “CONCERTS OF SPACE”
and my heart leapt!: “What a poetic title!” I exclaimed,
(hearing music of the spheres and heavenly harmonies)
and then my gaze lengthened, and the words read:
        “CONCEPTS” OF SPACE. Never mind, I said to myself,
(and perhaps aloud),

I shall write a poem and call it “Concerts of Space,”
and it shall be for Lucy Rie,
and the cup and saucer she made, and gave to me on Sunday.

Your pots are decisions, Lucy Rie,
decisions, forms, and emblems: mots.

No, no, they are pots of clay,
timbres of darkness and light,
suffered through, come safely through.

Your hands, Lucy Rie, conduct them through the fire:
        “ concerts of space.”