Today we get wet
running into and out of
mass.
Today we fly
the children on our feet,
dance in the living room,
read on the sun porch.
Today we play checkers and chess,
pretend to be bakers and chefs,
run and chase each other through the house.
Today we tumble on top
of each other and rest in a mass
of arms and legs and bellies and cheeks.
Today we get irritated, angry, and sad.
Today we say, “I’m sorry,” and “I forgive you.”
Today is a purple day –
rare, precious, and holy.