Feet

Feet jut out intentionally from the ends of our legs
keeping us erect, like no other creature,
stretched between earth and heaven.

They have so many uses:
I can stamp my feet to insist on having my own way.
I can turn on my heel, ignoring you.
I can tiptoe in stocking ed feet to avoid disturbing you.
I can rise on tiptoe to reach a high shelf.

But, my experience tells me
feet are designed mostly for locomotion -
plodding steadily as a tortoise
or striding purposefully like a hunter.,
running to catch a bus or train.

It's pleasant to walk barefoot across a lawn,
the blades of grass tickling my feet
as my mother did when I was a baby, to make me giggle,
or to wander across a beach, the sand warm under foot,
or to paddle in the lapping waves, soft and smooth as satin.

I have explored half a dozen English long-distance footpaths,
my size 13 boots eating up the miles.
I've strolled through golden corn fields
had adventures climbing over rocky mountain peaks,
and once waded, knee-deep, through a gushing river.

My grandchildren's feet use other:ways:
Rebecca dances, in silk ballet shoes, like a fairy.
Joseph's boots kick a football from the goal.
Daniel enjoys pedaling his way to uni.
Leon kicks bare-footed at his opponent in karate.

At the end of the day, it's enlightening
to put my slipper-ed feet up by the fire
and take a moment to ponder
their fundamental purpose -
to stand us upright and stretch us.

At the end of the day
our heads aspire to soar in the clouds like an eagle
while our feet are firmly, safely anchored on solid ground.

28 December 2023