His hands - tender
and big and calloused
cradled the lacewing
struggling to loosen
the web's sticky throttle
hold. Released, its gossamer
shadow flies off into the night.
His hands - tender,
and big and calloused
have likewise saved me
from entrapment. He opens
doors - setting me free. His yes
face and shining eyes assure
my return. He is my home, my light.
