I am grateful for the early morning intention

To feed my daughters earth’s fruits

At lunch when I am absent

my love is omnipresent

I am grateful for the pesky wind

That musses “perfect” hair

And shouts sweet nothings in my ears

All are signs that I’m alive

I am grateful for the cuts on my fingers

They scream silently as I work

scabs, wrinkles, dry cuticles – 

My hands are marked with ravages of time and labor