A Gentle Impression

I wandered into an open shaded patio where a potter had stepped away from their bench. On a low wooden stool sat a freshly shaped, damp clay bowl resting on a coarse burlap mat. I stepped up carefully onto a nearby brick to reach. With a patient, steady press, I leaned my front foot against the thick woven fringe of the burlap, settling it flat so the bowl wouldn't tilt. As I balanced, my plush side lightly brushed the rim of soft wet earth, leaving a tiny, neat textured groove. I paused, watching the gray clay slowly hold its quiet new shape.