These Hands

Callused and blistered from the days of worn hands that plowed

Plowed our lands and farmed our crops with pride they set the seeds

These hands once young and laborless now aged with pride

Proud to know they worked so hard for the land to become worth

It thrived and still its plenished by the hands that set it free to be

The vegetables of plenty, the fruits vines and trees orchards in the valley

Now these hands are aged and withered but still strong for they never forget

Forget the days when the earths thirst for the bounty of time we came near

So dear our native land it stands for truth and the waters so clear they flow

Through the mountains and then to the next horizon where my great great grandson

Will be so proud, as he stands tall on top of the hillside looking down with awe

As the eagle our native friend soars over our nation so great and fulfilled

He will always know that the nature be ours with guidance through the days of young

They be old and then reborn with the new generation of giving for our greatest

Gift we give to each other over time it be so short when we leave this earth

We must know in our hearts and mirth that we nurtured it with loving hands

These hands be so strong by your spirit we give you thanks