At Nels' House

All clayworks by Nels Arnold

I visit Nels' house, more than a year
     since we said goodbye and let her go.
It's early Spring, the not-yet-green mountaintops
     peeking through the almost-bare trees,
     fiddle-head ferns just uncurling in their astonishing way,
     maple leaves so new and soft, 
     I can barely feel them to the touch.
I knew you would never be gone.
Around the house I go,
     through your beloved gardens,
     in every surprising nook and cranny
     some clay work you brought to life with love.
How you envisioned your infinity garden, a figure eight,
     made of moss, still thriving!
A mysterious woodland staircase, and a beckoning path
     up through the woods to your daughter's home.
Ages and times blend together as I climb the trail.
You are there in the old house, raising your children,
     "Look, look there!"
     finding some new art in each day.
I knew you would never be gone.
I turn a corner of your house,
     past your clay studio glowing with your energy,
     and take a deep breath.
Here is a circle of humankind,
     all of us seated, contemplating seashells,
     a circle, yes.
A circle where each is equal, everyone's thoughts matter,
     children and elders gathered 'round,
     a small circle, a magic vision of our future
     you left for us.
Each of your works so human, bending, curving,
     voluptuous, scarred, aged, brand new,
     "I want movement!," you would say.
And here you are everywhere, because someone so alive
     has an energy that lives on, that never dies.
In all the beauty of this Appalachian Spring,
     here you are, Nels, saying "Look!  Look here!'
     offering this world cupped in your potter's hands,
     as you have ever done.

Annelinde Metzner
Bishop Cove
April 17, 2020

Fiddlehead ferns

Stairs to the woods

infinity garden

Maple leaves

Nels Arnold