gratitude: poem by Olga Dugan

dogwood tree, image by Manfred Richter, on Pixabay

gratitude 

            (for Olivia Dugan and Juliana Donskoy) 

a walk in a park converts to 

the creation of something 

from nothing— 

high above 

where we earthbound are 

short of where the good 

lastly go, sweet/black gum 

tree-of-heaven, dogwoods 

red oaks interact, swaying 

like dancers in air 

the cement paths where 

folks flow like rivers, where 

finches, sparrows step-hop 

here/there towards meals 

on picnic tables laid over grass 

become the backdrop 

behind a ruby of price— 

a mother bends, cups her 

baby girl’s chin, prays that 

while on this side, she’ll stay as 

happy as her laughter, widened 

palms, carefree eyes, lips kissing 

her mother’s brow, suggest 

and I look 

at how life’s transitions 

have changed my hands 

discern the meaning of today 

and tomorrow and now and 

gone and the needing to move on 

the courage we have solely 

because mercy is a mother 

bending low enough to see 

my face, speaking a scented 

breath to waken a soul, cupping 

my chin with graceful fingers 

that reach from a selfless love 

thank you...thank you

smiles into slow drifting day 

and I stop— 

churning sun scours 

noon near a body-size fountain 

where children splash water 

on playful cheeks making scant 

dabs that roll down mine like tears     

Olga Dugan’s award-winning poems have been nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes.

A Cave Canem Fellow, Olga’s work appears in many

literary journals and anthologies including Amethyst Review (forthcoming), Inkwell (formerly Ekstasis), Lived In, Litmosphere, The Write Launch, Spirit Fire Review, Reformed Journal, The Sunlight Press, Ariel Chart, Relief, The Windhover, Channel (Ireland), Kweli, Sky Island Journal, Munster Literature Centre's Poems from Pandemia, and others.

(April 2026 issue)