Pre-industrial revelations

These are my hands

With these hands I earn my living, sawing, banging, plastering,

Bricklaying……perhaps ?

With these hands I fix my home and knit my socks

With these hands I sow the seed that later will lift my fork.

With these hands I stroke my dog and caress my lover.

These hands have built up the patina of work.

You can tell I’m left handed there are more scars on my right.

A bump where, for years I rested my pen

There is a callus by my wedding ring.

These hands are my hands and they are tools of my trade.

My trade is life

My craft is my experience.