Eleven pieces of clay
molded by a master sculptor,
a master with a sense of
humor (and a love for cats)
Now they wait, faces raised
innocent, expectant, in
wonder at what is to come —
that breath of life or perhaps
a remolding, a breathless
rush into an unknown world.
This poem was written for Miz Quickly’s Day Seventeen challenge to write a poem inspired by the picture above. Thanks for a nifty prompt, Miz Q.
the raven's eye 
Oh wow!! I love that we have the same title! Great minds 😉 I really enjoy your use of breath…the expectant waiting for life to begin. Beautifully drawn in words,
“a master with a sense of
humor (and a love for cats)” I love this interpretation of the figures. They do look happy don’t they.
Excellent. Enjoyed reading this one! >