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Grandma used to burn cone insence

and I would watch it burn, a coil

of smoke rising, distributing daily

the same scent into the mostly

undisturbed air of the kitchen.

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It was a ritual or some attempt

to commune with distant gods

to bring blessings into a superstitious

household. Her four grandchildren

understood the perils of spilling salt.

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How small is the world lived

from a kitchen? The newspaper

came every day and was read

out of sight as if being seen

looking at the world were taboo.

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allets

01-16-19

447a

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georgeschaefer's picture

ah, yes, good incense always

ah, yes, good incense always adds to the mood.  nice poem.

allets's picture

Reflections

Grandma's kitchen. The place to be at age 8. :D