the last rays of sunlight are peeking through venetian blinds, mixing with the warm steam from the shower swirling around the windowsill. my deeply exhaled sighs of contentment rise slowly into the fog as the smell of baking bread wafts its way up the stairs: thick, and cozy, like the hug of a father. downy hairs on my forearm stand up, and i watch the way water droplets pool on my skin before they silently disappear.
the heavy quiet blanketing this sacred moment gives way to my realization
that all is indeed Grace,
and Beauty to feed my soul
is never so far that it cannot be found.