By Bethany Torode

This morning I was showered
with the blessing of the new year.
With head bowed
I watched the droplets fly
and sanctify. Later
the chub cheek of my son
rubs against mine in fun
annointing me with slobber
and my husband's quick kiss
leaves a trace of his element
on the corner of my lips.
All, the moisture of grace.

Comments are closed 2 months after a piece is published.