Multiple elements bring pieces of glass to my kitchen.
Earthen ingredients fired to liquid.
Then cooled in air.
The ball, an antique fishing net float, living in Japanese waters.
One day it broke free of its trappings, beginning a long drift to Hawaii, where it washed ashore at my feet. Back among its origins, lolling in sand.
Who knows the life of the blue glass chip. Was the bottle from which it came, passed around with celebratory swigs? Smoothed and worn with watery waves and sea salt grit, its landlocked now, this shard.
Earth, fire, and air combine, creating delicacies refracting light. These pieces floated their round-trip on water, a massive sea. Made their way to me, as treasure.