Working Hands

Hands touch, carefully to find what Needs fixing. A little cement mixing. Husband, wives, kids picked cotton. Long, hot days - long ago forgotten. Hard, sharp shells. Spinning wheel. Precision machine, squeaky wheel, Making thread, into the soft cloth. No bow-evils got in with the moth. The stout women made lemonades. We've all labored long - decades. We will live to see our golden age. Calm are the nights. No days rage. There's a page telling our Savior, We've been true for good behavior.