To a child, the hands of a giant; But even to a large man or woman heroic. Caught snoozing they seemed still poised with purpose: Dreaming of a mallet or paddle or brush; Of smoothing sawdust tears from the knotty totem face; Or sculpting the air to picture The arc of a Japanese bridge over the swamp; Life-size plywood Pterodactyls.
Think of all those hands have measured! The sunlight they've garnered into cathedral panes; What sails they hoisted and anchors weighed; And yet their soft heft when reaching for a shake or tender touch. Hands holding such life - John Henry hands - Held now in every thought of what once they held.