For Thursday Think Tank at Poets United #29 Stockings
Am a bare foot creature.
Prefer to intimately feel
ground beneath soles
that walk this winding path.
Don’t want to stumble, fall
against stones, would rather
fumble slowly through dips
and ditches of existence.
Have always chosen to brail
way through bends of life,
with sensitive nerve endings
which hold me to sacred ground.
Call them what you will: stockings,
hose, socks, footies, or footwear,
they create a muffling distance
between me and wherever I am standing.
On the other hand, was gifted last year,
with a knee-high pair dyed purple.
Incredibly soft, best I’ve ever felt.
May save them for rest when I reach
that final destination.
Elizabeth Crawford 12/23/10