ok so this is a scrappy thing but I wrote it. My mother has been visiting and together we made a bookcase and I thought of all the times we have done those kind of projects together and how I wonder at her practicality and skills.
Of all the skills my mother taught me
It is those that use my hands I thank her for most
As we put together a cheap black ash veneered
Bookshelf for my multiplying notebooks
I thought of the day we stripped a hundred year old door
In the sunshine, a Chekov play on the radio
It was the day before an exam and despite my nerves
I thought ‘’if I know how to do this life will be ok’’
I think of my mother when I stitch, when I knit, when I make pastry
When I use my hands to makes something from nothing.