Baptism

It started with a drop that burnt my forehead at first, then dissipated before it had a chance to cool. Denied passage on the path that traces my jawbone, ending where my mouth falls into a frown. The sun was too quick to claim it. Yet, there was no repudiation of the rush that followed as the long overdue clouds gave birth and Earth received their babies, afterbirth and all. I stepped off the porch, eager for the dirt to turn to mud, which clung between my toes. Then--- I held out my foot and watched as the water streamed down either side, rinsing the dirt away. Clean. As it should be. Will you dance with me, now that the rains have returned to Zimbabwe?