Fired Earth

I stepped into an open yard stacked with terracotta pots. Rows of large, upturned planters sat drying on wooden pallets. I walked straight up to the nearest giant vessel. I tapped the rounded rim with my club. It gave a bright, clear chime that hung in the morning air. I tapped it once more, slightly harder, testing its strength against the wood. The clay stood firm. It did not crack or waver. A clean, ringing chime answered back from the belly of the pot. Good earth.