Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
It’s April. Time for April showers and 30 Days of Biking.
Frugal mode Tighten the old belt Another hole Again Can I go Six months Between haircuts? Live on whatever’s In my cupboards Until they are bare? I’ve quit Subscriptions (except internet) TV antenna is my friend Roommate? Been there Done that No like strangers In my kitchen Or do I take …
Just in case you needed a Brew Babes fix before I launch into deep thoughts… Are you ready? Let me light the way. Ah yes, the writing has been difficult to do everyday, having the time, not to mention coming up with something to write about and finding a way to make it “poetic”. This…
Squared The cube The cube Not a science fiction entity But an office reality Desk after desk In tick tack toe pattern And the experts say, “Open office design increases teamwork and sharing” Now that is science fiction… A body leans On my half wall Peering at my screen I twitch “Can I help you?”…
The ice princess Surveys her kingdom She seeks out her trusty steed To carry her on her journey Perhaps they will jump onto a shard of ice And float to New Orleans Or they may simply stand on shore Watching the ice burn orange
Nowthen Threshing Show Can’t be beat In the Master Gardener Booth So many people to greet I’m supposed to answer questions But I learn more than I teach Surrounded by seasoned gardeners Who practice what they preach My favorite thing Seeing developing Monarchs But they’re in danger, like the bees We need to change our…
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