Mortar Round
Catching friction—
herbs with husk and shell bitten,
truth revealed by the rub.
Heat blossoms,
scorching pressed intentions.
Working flavors open, scent rising.
Satisfaction flickers
across knuckles and wrists—
the turn of the pestle.
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Flame's Crucible 
Quite captivating in its simplicity. I like how it defies what might be expected from the phrase “mortar round” and “shells”. Turning to creativity rather than destruction.
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Thank you. I tend to see things less as destruction and more as the shell cracking, a release, an opportunity to learn, grow, and share all that spice. 🖤
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