Grace isn't always a woman. Grace is the snowy down of geese's wings. Grace is the stir of velvet and cream lace. Grace is the curtain of green pine and cedar. Grace is the copper enamel of sundown.
Grace is the brilliant ribbon of desire.
Grace isn't always a woman. Grace is the first day of every season. Grace is the endless reservoir of dream. Grace is the anatomy of silence. Grace is the language of mute spirits speaking through us.