This lovely pot was made by Roderick Hill in response to fish strawberry wasp. And the poem was written many years ago, about Joy Allen.
I'm 75 today, and I'm doing what feels right. This feels right.
fish strawberry wasp
Up to her knickers in stream
she fished for tadpoles
through bent light
carried them home
by a string handle
to free in the garden pond.
Strawberries
she picked
hulled
sugared
boiled up
packed in
sealed with gingham covers
to spread
on scones.
Calling for help
that didn’t come
her hand shaking
till the jar might crack
she trapped a wasp
against the kitchen window.
Could it sting
through glass?
This summer
jam jars
lie empty in the shed
cobwebbed
loaded with dust.
She is lost for words.
The simple ones –
fish
strawberry
wasp –
slip down
too deep for catching.
