The Turquoise Bowl

by Kathryn White Ryan

A bowl in my hand is the earth:
My two palms can encircle the girth
Of this carved fragile thing in my hold --
Turquoise and lacquer and gold.

I lift it and turn it and see
The sun on its rim like a bee:
Over skies, over seas, over farms,
I have run with it safe in my arms.