hands must build

Hands must build

Must leave a mark

Some sign of something done

Of having been

Of being moved

Of having need

And finding fix

Before they rest calmly by

The sides of quiet ribs

A heart that does not beat

A mind that does not pursue

Before the cold gray cloud

Settles in and muffles the sounds

Stiffens the nerves

Stills the blood

Before the eyes cease to swim

In deepest dreams

Tossing and turning

Under sheets of skin

Lost in wonder

Before lips dry and crack

And taste no longer

The crisp change of November

The riddle of foreign flavors

The fifty dollars in a five ounce glass of wine

Before skin can shrivel

Peel like birch and ripple like oak

Feel the curious fingers of youth

Marveling at the callouses and wear

That age brings

Before the final breath

Like a ghost escapes unseen

And carries with it the dreams

And the weight

Of a lifetime of means

Hands must build