Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
What do you do when you feel unable to do anything besides watch TV or sleep? My first response is to give in to that feeling. I’m sixty-one years old. Why shouldn’t I take it easy? The answer is because I am sixty-one years old. I don’t have enough time to have the luxury of wasting…
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,…
I hang from a thread Entwined in a web Swinging left to right Reverse again and again Dark to light And light to dark Back and forth Up and down Settling, settling Around and around Hang in the air It will be found You know it’s true As truth can be Root to root And…
“The moon is dark tonight, a new moon for a new year. It is hollow and hungers to be full. It is the black zero of beginning.” – from”Head of the Year” by Marge Piercy – Yes, it’s a new year but I have the same old morning ritual as always… Make coffee. Grab…
Last week, I made a list of things that I’m not moving forward on because of the fear that I’m no longer capable of doing them or because I’m afraid of getting hurt. One of those things is taking a post retirement bike trip. But before I get into that, let me tell you about…
Not to sound morose or overly dramatic, but there are some moments that it seems I can literally feel myself dying. Of course, we all are dying in a way as we age. But generally, we don’t FEEL it — the body going cell by cell. Oops! There goes another one!
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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