Grace grows
like moss, like grass,
between the counted milestones of a life,
the things we hoped and strived for
laid out, summed up, empty,
except the grace that fills in everywhere,
becomes the reason, becomes the joy,
becomes what overflows in memory,
the gratitude of being

Things we built may stand like ruins,
listing in the shift of time,
moss and flowers and trees
will be their counterpoint ,
as the substance of everything
turns out to be quite different –
luminous glisten of grace,

©Wendy Mulhern
March 28, 2020