To celebrate one of the cowboy traditions, every so often we will be sharing the work of a different cowboy poet. Enjoy!

HANDS

There’s a special pair of hands assigned to do each task,
And to do a job the best we know is as good as we can ask.
You can try to stand alone but your world will start to drift
So the good Lord struck a plan and gave each one a special gift.
So God, bless the hands that are brown and scarred and rough,
But hands that reach to help you when the trail is looking tough.
Bless the old and gnarled hands, no longer strong or stout,
But hands that still can teach you what a handshake’s all about.
Bless the hands of buckaroos, young and full of pride
That teach us when we get bucked off to get back on and ride.
Bless hands that make the saddles and hands that stack the hay,
Hands that speak to horses in a mystic, magic way.
Hands that till the land, fix the fence, and catch the bids.
And Cookie’s hands that punch the dough and slam the bean pot lids.
Bless hands that tell the story of a lifetime chasing steers,
But hands that aren’t too big to gently wipe a child’s tears.
Hands that reach across for yours to say the table grace,
Calloused hands that tenderly caress a sweetheart’s face.
Bless her soft and gentle hands that wear your ring with pride
And show their share of scars and scrapes from standing by your side.
Bless artists’ hands and sculptors’ hands and guitar pickers’ too,
They’re only trying to tell the story in a way that honours you.
And if you’re feeling generous Lord, and if you’ve got the time
Even bless the hands of those who write and try to make it rhyme.
God gives each hand a gift, with his grace we’ll stand the test.
Bless each one—we need each one—to build this place we call The West.

© Doris Daley, from Rhyme & Reason and Poetry in Motion
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Doris Daley
Cowboy Poetry for All Occasions and in all Weathers
www.dorisdaley.com