Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
You follow people’s lives in their blogs and you rejoice over the good times, but you hate seeing people go through the bad times. I suggest you read this post by Amy at the DVM’s Wife and KB’s post in Romping and Rolling in the Rockies and see if it doesn’t make you think about…
It was a hot chocolate day An overcast day A damp day A day that took the crunch Out of the leaves And made dogs muddy It was a dog bath kind of day Or one bath One failed attempt Can you see who’s wet and who isn’t? It was a day To try and…
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…
I cannot know what this time, this circumstance, a loss, a gain is going to mean to the entirety of my life. Why do I waste so much time resisting my circumstances instead of looking with eyes that see neither negative or positive but just go ahead and live each moment as though it is…
I am reading The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister, a book about “becoming” after retirement. Much of what I’ve read so far is about the freedom that comes from being outside the corporate world, where image matters so much. But I’m still in that world…
After discovering I have osteoporosis, I set off to find a natural course for building bones with exercise and nutrition.
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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