Tuesday Grace

Tuesday's child is full of grace, according

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to the poem, but I'm the one in need of grace
today, and so far, I have had it. Were I to list
the things that have transpired, the items taken
care of, all accomplishments, it would be
quite impressive, and it's only early afternoon.
The day's still young, in fact, a perky teen who
ages with each hour and by the time she stops
to rest, she will have caught up with this woman
and surpassed me; I will feel my years. Gritting
teeth and plowing through to end of day is not
the way I want to live, but some days, it's the best
I can expect. By moonrise, I won't have all I desire,
not all but some, enough that hope is not diminished.
Grace does that, simple grace and love and glimpses
of a better life, peace in a moment that holds promise
of a peace that lasts all day and even bleeds into
the night as wine, when poured into a glass
of water, turns it red, and sweet.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014