I looked down and saw
Those Cadillac hands—
Those John Deere hands—
Hands that built and wrenched and worked
Hands that played and loved
My granddad’s hands—
A father’s hands—
A husband’s
A son’s
A farmer’s hands
A lot was built with those hands
Years and decades
A lot was fixed with those hands
Cars and trucks
Trailers and wagons; tractors and implements
A welder’s hands
A mechanic’s hands
A man’s hands
Who can know the work of a man—
The life of a man—
The value of a man?
I reached down and touched
Those Cadillac hands—
Those John Deere hands—
Those clay-like hands—
Those lovely hands
I hope that mine will be as useful...
...and that mine will be as valued
He was born and buried on November First—
The span of eighty-two years
A man in a clean John Deere 3320 lowered
The concrete lid over the interment site
The deceased would have smiled
Jeff Gangwer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/those-cadillac-hands/
