Four Views Of Your Hands

"Woven between my fingers,
your essence, your power. 
You are the warp;
I am the weft."

I
Woven between my fingers,
your essence, your power. 
You are the warp;
I am the weft.
When our hands move
we make a pattern
that rivals the rarest
Persian rug.

II
Your music, tapping fingers/
clicking keys, makes deep
currents of love on
the page conveyed by
a singular monotone that
only changes in frequency,
not quality.

III
With one hand you
control the car; I
hold the other so
I can distract you.
I keep trying as
you drive us safely;
We roll along in ecstasy,
hand holding.

IV
There is wisdom and
experience in your perpetually
cold hands; Rubbing warms
them for a moment. 
One at a time
I cup them and
blow hot air, hoping 
breath enlivens.
------

The Collected Chaff, v. 1.0