Poem: Hestia

Today’s inspiration: Bloodline by C. Dale Young | Poetry Foundation

To be beloved of Hestia.

We don’t talk, we quiet ones

who tend hearth, home, stoves and ovens.

About our days early, and well past dark.

Our every moment a devotion to Her.

Every cook, chef, floor sweeper, fire kindler –

all of us worshipping She Who Is The Heart(h)

of the Home.

If only Eris had sent that apple rolling a little to the left,

Hestia would have picked it up,

smirked at the inscription:

To The Most Beautiful,

and baked that troublesome fruit into a pie.

A dessert worthy of Hera, Athena, Aphrodite,

and none of them pestering some shepherd boy.

I pour tea, place a scone on a plate,

heap up the good apricot jam,

the cream thick as ichor.

Hail Hestia, this one’s for You.

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