Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Unless you walk
in frostbite country,
on burning coals,
or cutting edges,
shoeless goes better.

You can hear your feet
sigh...Freed from prison
toes play childhood games.
And soles! Aah! The soles!
In warm sand or cool
mud, finally,
your soles come alive!

Drive seashoreward
on summery days,
you will hear them,
again, again, and yet again,
“Are we there yet?”
“Are we there yet?”

Jim 12/31/10

Thank you for sharing this fine poem, Jim. Happy 2011.

I really enjoyed this poem, thank you. It reminds me of Summer days with my Dad at the Harbor. Feeling the water running through my toes while they dangled off of the edge of the Catamaran.

makes my feet happy to read
thank you for posting