…begins the poem Consider the Hands that Write This Letter
by Aracelis Girmay (poetnews@poets.org)

Which leads to all sorts of stories.  I always liked the country song about Daddy’s hands because it made me think of my grandfather’s big gnarled hands that so gently held my hand, taught me to drive the tractor, and made such beautiful pieces of furniture.  Arthritis had made them nearly immobile in many ways but it never stopped him from participating in life to the fullest.  He taught me to always count my blessings and I do as I consider his hands…

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