Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
Attention: This preempts a previously planned post that sounded too darn whiny. A winter walk Lit by snow light Quiet Sssshhh Hear the snow And geese gathering And ice moving Creeeekkkking And dogs wandering And wondering Sssshhh Pause Listen
Will I continually start, stutter, stumble, stop. Repeat, repeat, repeat Just do it Sounds so simple Seems to be impossible Try again Do the important stuff first It’s all important except maybe cleaning the house Some things, like sleeping Are important by nature Other things are important to me It’s all timing When I have…
It’s funny how out in blogland, I always seem to run across a post that contains just the right touch of wisdom, the words that I need to hear to prompt me to look at things from a different viewpoint. Once again, such a post was found on Terri Windling’s blog and is called “The…
Plans I had a blog post drafted up four weeks ago about my upcoming retirement. Instead, I am publishing this blog post — the first thing I’ve written since I fractured my shoulder on October 25. November was supposed to be my “Month of the Writer!” — a kickstarter to retirement life, where I will…
Remember how aging used to be something you looked forward to? How when someone asked you how old you were, you proudly held up your fingers and were so excited when it was your birthday and one more finger raised the flag? At age five, you started school. At twelve, you were practically an adult….
(A poet, I am not. But a woman who likes to play with words, that I am.) I feel the mermaid in me reaching for liquid mystery When clear, It reveals tree stump minnow feed …
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Fantastic! These hands have earned their keep? I love that! And your photographs are stunning – as are your hands! I often think that way about my body in general – you know, that it’s earned its keep – but specifically hands? What a lovely meditation. I loved, loved, loved this and will look at my age spotted, somewhat scarred, crepe paper textured skin hands more lovingly and appreciatively after reading this.
Your hands, poem, and photos, are beautiful. (but I do know the feeling of looking at my own hands and thinking “who’s are these?”)
Lynn