Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
Canvas Stark white Untouched My horse looks dubious Perhaps there’s a reason This place lies untraveled Powder over ice? Frozen ridges to trip on? Who’s to know? He isn’t the one Who wants to find out But I ask And he moves Does he trust my judgment? While I do not? So far so good…
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…
When life (or retirement) doesn’t go as planned, I have found that you can mope away your life or you can make adjustments. That doesn’t mean you have to go all Pollyannish. There is nothing wrong with taking the time you need to grieve. But even when you are grieving, I have found that it…
On those days When energy leaks Do not fight it But join the seep You will find A better day Just give it up Let sleep have its way Sorry. Not exactly your cute Christmas present dollies… I was feeling artsy. I played a bit of magic with a bobber that the Brew Babes and…
What is it about swans?
They make me think of fairy tales
And magic
And the ugly duckling
who discovers he’s a swan
My birth Mom turned 85 last Saturday. There was supposed to be a special birthday party with all her children that could make it there (four out of six of us) and her grandchildren. But Mom cancelled the party a couple days beforehand. It’s really too bad because she hasn’t felt well and she’s been…
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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