My blade kisses the petulant wood,

separates, 

with a sigh a shape forms

a marriage of intent and sculpture

turned like a palm on a maiden's thigh

ivory in ecstasy.

Pressing home this message

a creation unfurls

baby milked in sweet air and

a kiss curl begins.

A smile of joy, is it a girl or a boy?

Spinning like the earth itself

under the impetuous headstock

held fast, yin and yan

my floating ballet guides the tiller

on an ocean's breath,  and soon

quite soon

I see the plan as it flows along the line of sight

as it sings my song.