Anxious Hands

Anxious Hands

Anxious hands

Reach out to the magnifying glass

So’s to read the caller id

Punchin buttons

On a microwave to reconstitute a cup of this morning’s coffee

Feeling obligated to reach

Into the sink and clean out the whole thing

Before they can grasp the coffee cup and lift it to my lips.

Anxious hands

Zipping and unzipping jackets and pants

All day long as indoor outdoor temperature dictates

And an angry bladder demands.

Buttons and shoelaces and reading glasses

Off on off on off on.

Anxious hands

Straining to keep negative pace

With my thoughts

Which seem to move so much more slowly

Than anxious fingers and wrists.

That is why raking leaves is so satisfying

Why my anxious limbs push until they are past their limits

And there is no thought worth slowing down for.

Anxious hands

And gloves don’t mix.

Anxious hands need to feel it all

At the expense of cracked skin

And cracked nails

And blisters and splinters.

Anxious hands

Argue themselves red

And beg for time to heal.

Anxious hands

Peel and poke and shape.

They weed and mow and rake.

They bang and twist things into shape

They build and burn

And they do it because they think

That is Life

And when I finally catch up

To anxious hands

I will see for myself.

I hope they were right.