Blessing
A feel of warmth in this place.
In winter air, a scent of harvest.
No form of prayer is needed,
When by sudden grace attended.
Naturally, we fall from grace.
Mere humans, we forget what light
Led us, lonely, to this place.
Poem by
John Montague
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
Summaries, Analysis, and Information on "Blessing"
More Poems by John Montague