My Hand

Rivulets course
Over dry, fading skin
Ever-deepening furrows
Revealing age as the days pass

Two tiny mountain ranges
Stand firm in goose-flight formation
Crossed erratically by a thin, dark vein
A distended mar across the surface

A movement, and the shift
Smooths lines here
Scatters sand-patterns there
In crinkles of joy and sorrow



4 thoughts on “My Hand

  1. antoinette and frenchy

    What a beautiful poem you have written.I love the last line- in crinkles of joy and sorrow. Your poem reminds me a little of an experience Antoine St Exupery wrote about after his plane crashed in the Sahara desert. He was starving and while trying to fix his plane reached into a toolbox and found, absurdly an orange. Who had put it there when and why? He stared at it very closely examining all the tiny crevices and saw a world within it. This orange saved his life.

    He went on to say: Stretched out before the fire I looked at the glowing fruit and said to myself that men did not know what an orange was. “Here we are, condemned to death,” I said to myself, “and still the certainty of dying cannot compare with the pleasure I am feeling. The joy I take from this half of an orange which I am holding in my hand is one of the greatest joys I have ever known.”

    Liked by 2 people

    1. What a great story about St. Exupery and the orange. I can just see the world within it. It’s amazing when I slow down and really look at something I see every day and yet don’t see at all. I look at my own hand now with a renewed joy and delight. Perhaps the next orange, too :-).

      Thank you for your comment. My favorite line is about the two lines in goose-flight formation. That makes me smile each time I read it. It was nice to know which line gave you pleasure.


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