(Poem 3 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

The first time salting
my window sills, I waited
until everyone in the house
was asleep.

No one could question
the protective measures
taken on their behalf
nor doubt their
efficacy.

Burning sage for the first time
took place behind closed doors,
any scent detected probably
thought to be a strange new
candle, since those are
understood.

My rock collection
continues to grow,
new shades of polished
gems and crystals join
dinosaur excrement and
fossilized wood,
each has its place.

@Genuine Joe’s mid-day – 3rd poem of the year