This will always be
the year we found grace,
or rather, grace
found us -- sneaking up
on all fours, howling
deep down the catacombs
of the early morning,
giggling toward us
on Charlie Chaplin legs,
bloodying fresh teeth
on the bathroom tile,
shoving our faces away
with soft arms, cozying
into our shoulders,
our bellies, and into muscles
and bones so far
that without it we nursed
a physical ache.
This grace pokes
fierce fingers into our mouths,
rattles the lids of jelly jars,
lets chocolate melt
in its fist, eats the leaves
of houseplants, splashes water,
rubs its wet belly, pees
on the floor, and is so happy
to see us it tries to turn itself
inside out. It bids us love
one another with abandon
through the ordinary divinity
of every day.