On her father's shoulders
Hazel is the first to feel the rain.
Small drops on her hair
and flailing hands. "It's spurting,
no, squirting," she says, lisping
a little through her baby teeth.
She will, of course, grow
too heavy to be carried.
Rain and her father
will become annoyances.
But today they laugh
together in the rain,
his big hands
steady on her knees,
her small ones
over his head
like an umbrella,
like a blessing.
-Martha Christina
HAZEL IN THE RAIN
