The boiling cauldron muttered on the fire
As Dora dropped a wreath of heather down
Into the broth that brewed a yellow crown
Of foam. "Step forward now, name your desire,"
She said, and so we did. "You must not frown,"
She cautioned, but we had to concentrate,
And frowning seems to help. Into a plate
She splashed a swirl of peppermint and rue,
She read the leaves, and told us what was true
About ourselves: part gumption and part fate.
"You're born with options," Dora said. "Construe
"The signs of what you've done, that's what I do.

© Kevin Berland, 1999

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