“Make of me a bowl 

to catch the rain,” I prayed.

That bowl, simple

and translucent, was made;

the rain caught

and emptied.

Now at sunset,

on the empty bowl’s rim,

two dancers dance,

hands clasped, held high,

between them only

open, red sky.

The  bowl ,

 containing nothing now,

 supports

the dancers and the dance.

JDG