Good Dirt

Moses

Moses

1847

T he light coming into the potter’s shed was just right. Moses leaned over a disk of greenware and picked up a tool. Looking around to be sure no one was watching, he pressed the slender metal point into the clay and began to write. He told himself he could destroy the disk later. Cut it up. Wet it down. Reshape it into something else. But he did not.

Twenty years earlier, he would never have done such a thing.