Just a short poem about hestia, Greek goddess of the hearth she kneels, pokes the fire her brown veil doesn't hide her eyes he thinks she doesn't know he is coming reaching in, he grabs the flames they crackle in his arms and he turns to leave she rolls the fire poker through her fingers and meets his eyes and remembers the tiny figures that huddle in the caves she smiles, gives him a nod yes, they could use some warmth when he's gone, she turns back to the hearth someday she’ll look out the window to globes of light adjust her brown robes and smile to herself
the subject of this poem is hestia letting prometheus steal fire from the gods to give to humans :)
