Sculpture People

Sculptor people, in a circle

Standing still, as still can be.

Soft hands outstretched, concentrating

These people do not move, you see.

’Tis the clay before them, shudder-shifting

That tells the story locked within.

The sculptor people are only waiting

For the clay dance to begin.

It is a vibrant, dynamic motion

Earth falls away, features revealed

And still the sculptors, in their circle

Are still as silence, all guise concealed

The sculpture captures life in truth

While sculptor is stone, but for beat and breath.

Clay takes on a soul, and possibility

While sculptor freezes, a sculpture death.