April Poetry | Autocorrection

Autocorrection

by Nancy Reas

Before she died
I dug a grave
and wrote a poem for Lacy,
but the word autocorrected to grace instead.
Each time
grave became grace.

The way she nuzzled my hand
no matter that it held a full cup of coffee,
the way she leapt over the step from the deck
in anticipation of a walk,
the way she would rise
and come to our bed for
one more caress before bedtime.

It is grace
not a grave
that causes me to remember
how she loved to swim as long as we’d let her
in a pond, a lake, or the ocean
her head just above the water,
how she tolerated our neighbor’s little dog Snowy
who pestered her like a younger sister.

Her softer than velvet ears were grace;
her huge paws that she didn’t like to be touched were grace.
When I feel sad at her passing
I will depend on my grief
to autocorrect to grace.

Nancy Reas

January 23, 2018