Suddenly this morning
The nook over the sink
where a window should be
Became a shrine
I don't know whose
But someone who
Holds the harvest holy
Watches over bounty
Is honored with
Inverted bottles
Everted baggies
Sponges soap and scrubbers
A bowl
of scented oils
O how beloved
Must this deity be
In this household
And how fortunate
This household
To be in her care