Ode to their calloused hands


Photo by Andrei Duran/ THE FLAME

Here, the foliages sing in lush green. Dense with tenderness from the calloused hands

that set the tempo of the rivulets down to earthen roots, the hands that never let the leaves 


turn into multitudinous folds— untuned, scorched, and cracked underneath the blazing sun.

The branches creak under the whip of the wind, while the fallen leaves released 


from their limbs rustle. A lyric of gratitude, to the calloused hands that opened 

to embrace them all. The carpet between the concrete lanes succumb beneath


every stride as piano keys succumb to fingertips. With his hands, the conductor 

holds the water hosepipe, a baton that calls to the greenery. The orchestra begins. 


Then the students will listen, and they will sing the lyric of gratitude as well. F

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