a days work

as i soak,

i stare at my hands.

large and hard, calloused

and covered

in debris.

a days work done.

i can't get the water

hot enough

to ease

the pain, of bones

and muscle.

through the back and

down the legs.

but these hands.

these hands that give

me work,

that provide a crust

of bread,

are at last at rest

as i close them together,

lacing the fingers

to pray.