human hands,
centuries ago
at least.
I find them
on the beach,
or in mossy
streambeds,
unrecognized by others.
They are mostly
for cutting or
scraping, for
cleaning hunted
game or fish.
The one thing
they all have
in common
is a comfortable
shape, carefully worked
to fit the hand.
The shells beside them
in the sand
are older life
by millions of years,
but do not bespeak
the hopes,
the labor,
the loves,
and the tears.
16 October 2016
