BAREFOOT

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.