The concept is simple: HM doodles; you write a poem to accompany it. Links to all the doodles throughout the month and the opening post can be found here.
Doodle is by HM Yuan; please do not post the doodles on other blogs.
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Yay Words! 
flu season no one saw me wipe my hands on my jeans
😀
waiting room
i startle at the sound
of the doctor’s voice
[…] the He Doodles, You ‘Ku challenge, on Aubrie Cox’s Yay Words […]
his burn-scarred hands—
how the winter wind
makes dead leaves fly
Acorn #28
the roosters’ crow…
echoed through strains of
dawn’s greyness
When I was little, my mother and I held hands. When she was old, we held hands all the time again. After she was called Home, I held the Bible I read to her for comfort, and small poetry books. It is amazing, when so much seems lost, the depth of responses which remain.
pausing at the keyboard
my hands rest in prayer
old moon —
I let go, one finger
at a time
once again yearning
for that old flame–
the sugar maple turns
frost on the pumpkin
our turn to be
that sweet old couple
an old pianist-
listening to the tunes
of our holding hands
Correction:
holding hands-
an old pianist listens
to our symphony
with each flash
her knuckles whiter –
gathering storm
after sandy hook
our hands in prayer
for mercy and peace
withered leaves
the hands that held me
for the first time
pine casket
she folds a note
into his hands
winter wedding —
candlelight warm
on ungloved hands
even with fingers
I don’t feel secure–
I’m not blind
crumbling leaves . . .
our hands gather
the silence
no matches
this long night
winter prayer
brown leaves
cling to the oak tree
my winter jacket
hands entwined
at the top of the Ferris wheel
holding on
to what’s left of him . . .
fading sun
or:
holding tight
to what’s left of him . . .
fading sun
letting go to hold onto what we have
the clasp of her locket clicks closed
saffron sky …
the warmth of his touch
in the sparrow’s song