Ode to a Bodna

a friend to me are you small pot
you stare right back from where I squat
with belly round and funny nose
that stretches out quite like a hose

or maybe like an elephant
you bellow loud with grand torrent
but that’s not quite the metaphor
for you don’t spray but rather pour

i’m happy for your secrecy
it really means the world to me
for you have seen me at my worst
and hold true tales best left unversed

i fall apart in front of you
you comfort me as mothers do
you help me up and on my way
but not for long, I’m back to pray