Hands

I should hate to lose them in a freakish accident. They have brought me so much pleasure wandering as they do like shell-less crabs between the waymarks of self. I love to make them dance like windblown leaves. Leonardo da Vinci was fascinated by hands, he understood that if you could capture them you could shape cathedrals out of air & water, they are often more eloquent than words. I like to turn them over, as I would turn over a page of scripture. They are almost weightless. every ounce of flesh takes the strain working cantilevers, pulling ropes lifting them above gravity. Shamelessly they openly appear naked in public When I recall how they have been abused I ask them for forgiveness. At times, I want to clean them like seabirds caught in an oil slick. Then I remember that they are my art, also the mute witnesses of my many fumbled catches, yet they wash me every day as I wash them.