Grace

Maybe you need to write a poem about grace.
—Robert Hass

•••

All I know about grace is that we don’t
deserve it, this unmerited favor that
humans can’t earn,

that it’s kindness freely given, nudging
us into a state of being we can’t perceive
until we land there.

As I did today, rising earlier than usual,
moved to part the blinds and find
the morning

flushed with the call of a male mourning
dove swelling its chest and exhaling a
signature coo,

seeking a mate—a reminder that just
because I rarely hear or see them in
my yard,

birds still adorn branches, flock to trees
like so many benevolent winged
ornaments.

We are awash in grace that feels like
a gift tenderly offered, and, with our
own good will

and open hearts, let us accept the love
extended, no questions asked,
again and again.

Mourning doves / Photo: Steve and Dave Maslowski
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About janishaag

Writer, writing coach, editor
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2 Responses to Grace

  1. Spectacular poem! Made me smile. I love our mourning doves, too. Sometimes, a dozen on the ground. Grace.

  2. Sandra Lommasson's avatar Sandra Lommasson says:

    Beautiful, Jan. My whole being sighed into this!

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