Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
At what point Do we Stop enjoying Eying with wonder A seed split open A shoot rising Out of the earth Or fungus Springing out of Recycled coffee grounds? At what point Do we become So sophisticated That nothing amazes Makes us blink in surprise At what point Are we no longer allowed To be…
Since I injured my shoulder, I have been fighting tooth and nail to get back to my old normal self. She rode her fat bike through the snow. She went cross country skiing. She worked out at the gym running and lifting weights. I’ve been hugely frustrated with the slowness of my recovery and the…
We look for the unusual through our camera lens, but try too often to hide it in ourself. Yes, I know, there are people who strive for uniqueness a brand of “me” a scarf that took hours to drape just so layers of mismatched jewelry, or dramatically madeup eyes. But who wants to cultivate qualities …
Give Me a Break Exhaustion Drips off me Puddling Onto the floor Another mess To clean up This is not a literal poem as you might be thinking. There have been no puppy accidents for at least two days. She’s getting much better at not peeing in the house and she hasn’t pooped in the…
Slowing down the speed of life and taking a moment to feel and express gratitude
Did you know there is an actual name for a Welsh Corgi and Jack Russell cross? They are called a “Cojack” and from the photos and description of the breed in the link, I’m becoming more and more convinced Latte belongs to this club. Along with the agility course I believe I need to wear…
Comments are closed.
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