Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
A solid rain storm started last evening and ran through much of today. So what else can a girl do but go to the Horse Expo and look at all the bling. There was more bling than practical stuff. I found a Troxel helmet I’ve been looking for, to replace my old horse-chewed up helmet,…
Frugal mode Tighten the old belt Another hole Again Can I go Six months Between haircuts? Live on whatever’s In my cupboards Until they are bare? I’ve quit Subscriptions (except internet) TV antenna is my friend Roommate? Been there Done that No like strangers In my kitchen Or do I take …
In sports, a timeout stops action to strategize the next play. During injury timeout, I find moments to marvel over the mundane.
[WARNING! I think I sound a bit crazy sometimes, but really, do not be alarmed! My brain is just on high percolation lately and I’m letting go and letting it do it’s thing.] Free thinking Free writing Living large But not gluttonously Make more things From scratch Stop fighting my hair With expensive products This…
Oh, Baby, Baby I love my new baby Not this baby Although I love her too But this baby Newest addition to my family She is flippin’ fast Zoom! Zoom! Whirrrr! Bling! Blang! Capturing my heart moments Freezing wonder Sometimes in midair She is very mysterious I’m devilishly striving To discover How to push her…
The Grungy Grays sometimes walk through the night, howling in their secret language at the moon. Or they ride on a hodge podge of mountain bikes, road bikes, and falling apart bikes, their graying hair flashing like sparks in the moonlight…
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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