A morning shower has cocooned us
in clouds of soft silver gray,
embroidering our window screens
with seed pearls of glinting, dewy
droplets.
I am warming myself with hot coffee,
not in my usual smoothly curved,
factory-fashioned white cup
but in a handmade pottery mug
ringed by ridges
formed by the potter’s fingers
deftly pinching and pulling the clay
as it whirled on a wheel somewhere.
This mug is glazed shiny brown on the outside,
light pink-lavender within,
though the pink is now halfway hidden
by steaming coffee.
As I sip, I notice the potter’s thumbprint,
a dip pressed with purpose
exactly at the point
where the handle meets the mug’s rim,
a place where my thumb also rests
to hold the mug.
It’s a tiny, thoughtful gift
from someone I’ll never meet.
My right hand fingers hug the handle,
and my thumb rests in the thumbprint.
My left-hand fingers curve around the mug,
finding and following the fingerprints of the potter.
As I hold this mug,
I hold the potter’s hand, and
even though I’ll never know the potter,
I feel a genuine gesture of generosity,
a connection of kindness,
of comfort,
of kinship.
I’m grateful for this unknown potter
whose presence in this present moment
is bringing warmth and goodness
to the start of a soft,
silver gray day.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.