Baring my sole

One of my fourth-graders mentioned that she heard something poetic: “I like feet, but I don’t like bare feet.” Somehow that just got me thinking. Don’t know why. Here’s the start of what I’ve got.

I don’t like bare feet

Gangly, callous-ridden

Sometimes hairy and more than

A little bit stinky.

When I ponder the

Beauty

Of the human form:

Eyes

Lips

Necks

Hands

When I consider

Splendor and perfection

Toes do not come to mind.

But I like feet.

Broad, sturdy

Firmly rooted, connecting us to earth

Bearing our souls

As they have throughout time

As they will throughout time

There is a poetry in prints:

The lines we tread forth and back

Sometimes rhyme, often repeat

Tracing our journey

Each day a new stanza

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