Love is Not Earned

A display of my skills
slapped up on a billboard
would need more than neon
lights to catch the public eye.
Father always made his hay
before it rained; Grandfather
said his say with an orchard
and beehives, Winesaps and
comb honey. My talent for
indolence keeps me from being
an Orville Wright or an
Isaac Stern or a Pinter (Harold),
and I make any Sunday morning
speak softly that calls me
to examine my conscience.
But you set a halo on my head,
a crown of love and I know
(even if it slips on occasion)
I never earned it but like
grace it was freely given.