CALLOUSED HANDS

She walks down the hill
Kicking up dust with her bare feet
Humming as she steps,
rags in her calloused hands

She makes way to her stream to wash her soiled rags,
Cleansing, dress hem of morning dew,
By waters end she stands
bending submissively forward on her knees

She grabs her stone of might and will
To pound her rags with love and care
Wisps of her hair in summer air
Sunlight dancing, bejeweled water flows

She smiles in her song

hearing her children calling her home...

Reviews

[Dreamer]

hmmmm i like this. Its sounds like the beginning of a wonderful prose. Would be so interesting to read it if it was. I love the imagery. Good write

[Chris]

A fair picture of life in many places...

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

and still she smiles and hums regardless of her plight. Beautiful Rene..........

[emmajoy]

'She smiles as
her children call her home'

That's beautiful, simply beautiful and simply written, but it truly creates a picture which is what writing can do in the right hands. That scene must exist in so many places, you've captured it superbly. Those last two lines are an anthem.

[Coyote Poetry]

In many parts of our world. Woman still go to the river. I saw in in Central American and Africa. I like the description and good story in the poem. A very good ending to a excellent poem.
Coyote

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

Favorite! Such beautiful simplicity. The poorest folk are often the happiest folk. What an amazing capture of a basic chore, so carefully written.
Fantastic work, Rene!