Pots

Pots, earthen, cracked,
reusable nonetheless, lying long
in the rain and open air, flake 
beautifully, just like skin. They function
as parts of a natural
echoing machine, reflecting responses
with their bottoms. Their use 
is for water to pass through them
and to linger inside, and for demonstrating
clearly the roles of earth,
since they were made of it, lifting up
rot, germination, specimens of plants.
In a corner of the garden, under the hedge,
empty pots lie (here 
is their room), waiting for spring, 
to be housed anew, until then
calling softly for moss,
something more permanent. 

 

Translated from the Croatian, or written in English by the Author