Summer is well upon us, so here's a new offering from Charlie.
We hope it brings you some happy memories.
BAREFOOT
By Charles Patrick Norman
Those unfortunates whose
lives began in cities,
whose mothers strapped
sandals and shoes onto
their pudgy little feet
before they could walk,
to protect them from
contact with the floor,
As their world expanded to
sidewalks and parks,
keeping their tender toes
insulated from the ground
upon which they sought to
run and play and live,
have never known the
country joys of running barefoot.
The first steps on a cool
hardwood floor connect
the child with its Earth
Mother, sensations flowing
freely to the tactile
centers that say it is safe,
no shoes could convey the
thrill of morning dew
on grass washing bare feet
before the rising sun
dries them, replaced by
the warm earth’s caress
on tender feet that
quickly toughen with use,
or the ouch, ouch of
noonday sand that urges them along.
No child shod with Nikes
or Adidas will ever
feel the embrace of creek
mud between their toes,
or the relief of wading
ankle-deep in running water
as curious minnows tickle
their feet
with tiny mouths, then
scatter as the child wades deeper.
Wet tennis shoes will
never dry in the sun
like bare feet on a grassy
river bank, communing
with nature, awaiting
their Maker, who we meet barefoot.
