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Personal Note:

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Poem

(For Danny, who rolled the jeep, escaping with only a broken hand.)

Hands are made for gathering dirt
when bicycle chains are loose,
or for clasping, after a quarrel
when friends decide to call a truce.

Hands are made for soothing a brow
when baby sister is feeling ill,
for holding brother’s hand on walks
or bringing Mother a headache pill.

Hands are made for brushing teeth,
combing hair, and shining shoes;
for picking up the telephone
when “she” calls with the news.

Hands are made for waving
when Granddad says goodbye,
for pointing out to Dad when fishing
that special cloud floating by.

Hands are good for baiting the hook
in anticipation of that trout
and when sister falls in head first,
those same hands can pull her out.

Skin and bones, fingers growing stronger,
finally Dad says, “You may drive the jeep.”
But when the jeep rolls over,
Legs are made to leap!

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