General Poetry posted November 6, 2017 Chapters:  ...100 101 -102- 


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A chapter in the book Family7

Mother's Hands

by Barb Hensongispsaca

My Mother's hands were farm forged strong
from toiling chores her whole life long.
She fixed our breakfast as we slept
then dishes, laundry - nicely kept.

She fed the critters, milked the cow,
kept us in line, 'cause she knew how.
She'd work the garden 'til time came
for dinner prep - her claim to fame.

Then she'd help Dad knee-up the hay
to mows o'erhead the horse's bay.
Then stack the wood for winter's chill;
Moms hands would suffer splinters fill.

Though cut and torn, Moms hands held love
as she'd give Dad a 'hold-me' shove.
She'd wrap me in her strong embrace
as she would touch my tear-stained face.

'Though never soft, her hands held mine
so tenderly, and that was fine.
Then o'er the years, her hands became
so bent and twisted ... not the same.

Misshapen through the trials of life,
her hands were of a farmer's wife.
And they still showed her love for me -
she held my hand ... her soul flew free.


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Check out the clubs and the picture this challenges.

Knee-up is when you life a bail of hay or straw and bounce it on your knee to toss it into the haymow. It is very hard to do and needs a rhythm.


Submission for the Pix This Group: Daisy in Hand event in the "Pix This Challenge Group".  Locate a writing club. Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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© Copyright 2017. Barb Hensongispsaca All rights reserved.
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