The Work of My Hands

Is leaked into my eyes
when I am blinking myself awake.
A list of divine
tasks,
some as simple as washing a dish
an application mailed in
an assignment explained,
a phone call, encouragement
for the weary,
a meal served,
hands washed
and words written down,
pictures taken,
hope reigned in,
and just like that, just like that,
the sun is already setting.
My magic tucked in around me
underneath the home-made quilt
keeping me warm,
my hands numb,
my eyes,
my eyes closed.