My Neti Pot, My Sinus’ Saint.

In the realm of of allergens, pollen and dust,

Where breath goes awry and air doesn’t gust,

There you stand, my vessel so quaint,

My Neti Pot, my sinus’ saint.

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With curves of ceramic and porcelain fine,

You cradle baking soda, salt and water combined.

You cleanse, you rinse, you rejuvenate-

My nasal paths you liberate.

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When mold descends, and dust does beset,

Or cold's grip takes hold, with mucus and threat,

I turn to you with nostrils aflame,

And in gentle flows, I'm free once again.

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Simple pot, elephant spout so long,

Your quiet ritual- a sinus song.

With grace you navigate the divide,

From nostril to nostril in gentle stride.

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To some, you’re odd: a tool arcane,

But those who’ve known your salted rain

Revere your power, the relief ordained.

But too much salt, you’re a ticket to pain.

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In a world of pills and quick relief,

Your ancient method brings sweet reprieve,

No chemicals, no side-effects to fear,

Just the dance of solution in my nostrils dear.

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So thank you for your quiet duty,

Your vessel simply a thing of beauty.

It holds a special place near my sink,

And holds what I pray I never drink.