Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
Finally! A nice day! Yeh! See Maery doing the happy dance! You know it’s been tough weather-wise when a bit of sun and temps in the 60s make you crazily jubilant! Lots got done today – raking, cutting down some buckthorn, gathering and burning branches, clearing flower beds of leaves and old growth, a couple…
Rejoice Whatever remembrance These days bring Resurrection Freedom Rebirth New life I have found Peace and smiles In giving thanks For blessings And struggles That come in waves gentle and wild Neither labeling good or bad Simply Interesting
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,…
(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 …
Piano My fingers Are they really mine? Disembodied Not as strong Or limber As they were Well-worn sheet music As familiar As my daily route And yet The surroundings Have changed I start and stop Play Waiting for neurons To remember To click For muscle memory To kick ass The fingers reach And stroke keys…
What is it about swans?
They make me think of fairy tales
And magic
And the ugly duckling
who discovers he’s a swan
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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