Sundays Whirligig
Sundays Whirligig


Ten digits

They loll on the end

of my work-worn hands

Sometimes they seem to

prance in the air when

I’m excited

Pointed in wrathful fury

they intimidate no one

They remind me of

important to-dos with

sticky notes posted on

the fridge

They dig deep in the

black earth to provide

me with beans and beets

and squash and do battle

with slugs and beetles

They shade my eyes from

the shattering sunlight

Just for fun they deal cards-

seven each- in a hotly

contested game of UNO

And as the day turns to night

they curl up under my

pillow as I drift of to sleep


Ten poking digits

My fingers

14 thoughts on “Ten

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