Ambrosia

 Today, I drank a glass of water.

I drink water every day,

            but today, it was special.

I don’t know why.      It was from the tap,

            in the same cup I always use.

I forgot to fill the ice tray,

            so it wasn’t even cold.

 

Today, I drank the most delicious water

            of my life.

I can’t say where it is now,

            if it’s in my blood

            or if it’s still sloshing around my belly,

and I have no idea if it’ll leave me

            as sweat or tears

                        or pee.

 

Today, the water I drank

            baptized my tongue

            and rolled down my throat

            like glacial melt through a mountain slope

                        in spring.

 

It’s really a shame

            that there’s no word

            for the mute sweetness

            in the perfect glass of water

or for the invisible, tranquil bliss

            that fills the heart sometimes.

***

(Cuenca, Ecuador -- June, 2020)

This is just a goofy, little poem about finding unexpected moments of bliss in the mundane. In this case, it was a particularly refreshing glass of water. I was probably dehydrated.