Hestia, first and last
child born of Rhea, swallowed
and kept by Kronos,
twice-born like all your siblings,
you tend the worlds’ hearths.
Elbows bent, hair protected
from the licking flames,
each god knows your sacred part
of sacrifices;
all revere you, offering
sweet incense and fat.
Eternal maiden, you take
these precious things;
then with necessary warmth
you reciprocate.
As breath enlivens a gas
stove’s flames, please accept
meek utterances, simple words,
and keep watch over
stove-fires fluttering, dancing—
yes, watch the modern
hearth;—let these words please, goddess.
A Beginning Prayer to Hestia
KALLISTI 
This is really lovely! I often gag on liturgical language, but this is so lovely and succinct…but you are, as I mentioned before, a real poet and so can cut to the truth without cloying words.
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