These Feet....

Our feet are something we take for granted, but they, too, require respect.

These Feet….

These feet have carried me
for many a distant mile,
over rocky roads,
mountain trails,
and beaches beside the sea.

They’ve transported me
through valleys
lush and green, and to the
highest mountain reaches.
They’ve felt soft moss
beneath their toes,
been bruised by stones
upon the path,
yet they know
the calming wonder
of the restless surf.

Sometimes clothed in boots,
thick soled and stout,
sometimes in sandals,
cool, lightweight, and airy.
Sometimes they were bare
and open to the air.

So many steps,
so many miles,
so many years
have these restless feet
caressed the earth with care.
They have supported me
through good and bad,
through laughter,
and through tears.

The time has come
for me to say
that, without these feet,
I would have seen little of my world,
and missed the thoughts
that tumbled from my mind
while moving, one foot at a time.

These feet have stood me in good stead
while strolling in the sunshine,
hiking in the rain,
wandering through the fog,
or briskly marching on a frosty morn.
They have taken me down paths
forested and shady,
and to mountain tops
where the view
has forced me to my knees in awe.

The wonders I have seen
while traveling on my feet
are the ones that I remember
clearly,
the ones I treasure most of all,
like the day that I meandered
through the ancient Bristlecones.
Or the time I sat to rest
amid wild flowers in a meadow.
Then, there was that frightening moment
when, on a mountainside,
I met that bear.
We surprised each other
and our lives connected
before she lumbered on, and
I took time to breathe.
I remember well that moonlit night
when I shared a special moment with a doe.
I know without a doubt
that we communicated,
I on my two feet,
she on her four.
It did not matter that we were different
because, at that moment, we were the same—
living creatures in the moonlight.

I’ve watched marmots play the rocks,
been delighted by a squirrel’s antics,
chipmunks, too.
I’ve felt the joy a blackbird does
when splashing in a mountain stream,
and known the thrill of seeing
an eagle soar,
a heron catch a fish.

Thanks to these feet,
I’ve seen the Goddess Moon rise up
and spread Her light—
a bridal train upon the water.
I’ve entered woodlands after dark
to listen for an owl—
the wisest of all creatures
who sees all and hears,
but whose flight is silence absolute.

I treat them with respect,
these old feet of mine
for they have gifted me
so often in the past.
I pamper them
and always, I respect them—
these well-worn feet of mine.

Vi Jones
©March 6, 2006