They reach for cans, slice onions, and stir the mixing bowl.
They hang clothes, mop floors, and tie sneaker laces.
They cut flowers, swat flies, and scratch itchy faces.
They pet dogs, throw darts, and reach for the morning paper.
They sign checks, type keys, and slam the door in anger.
They strum guitars, beat drums, and play a violin.
They brush teeth, shave nubs, and strike the bowling pins.
They shake hands, comb hair, and steer the family car.
They paint walls, hammer nails, and open a wound-tight jar.
They iron shirts, change channels, and raise a glass to toast.
"They", the gift of hands and arms,
I wish for Vaughn the most.