~ A SNAKE CHARMER’s FLUTE ~

International Women’s Day

Image on pixabay by gerault

Woman’s hands,

toyful tools of

toil’s delight,

amnesiac fools so

quick to forgive,

so willing to heal

— O surgeon’s scalpel and needle —

the devil’s afflictions.

Hands arched together —

a snake charmer’s flute

that holds within its

sensuous hollow,

webs of galaxies

spinning out destinies…

Coral reef

fingers scatter

seahorses in

lagoons, hold

blue trellises

of water hyacinths,

knit them together.

A woman’s hands

are mothers to shy

water-babies.

When

they assemble

miracles of healing,

pungent ginger

mandrake

and rosemary

grow in the fireplace

of a woman’s hands.

Whisper of a

wood nymph’s wing

but tough as

leopard skin jasper,

a woman’s hands

become tensile

oars for a

Quinquereme’s

lumbering

passage towards

portals of modernity.

When

bells toll

and shed

patinas of old

— verdigris and russet —

they speak of casts

that are a woman’s hands,

hands that cradle

crystalline nests for

phoenix children.

Above,

clouds tremble and