Inch by inch I mosey,
thunderstruck with awe
loving the way weather works.
today’s warm breath on my neck,
wrung tight from weekend labors
delights me all the way down to the soles
of my feet, touching grass for the first time
every bit as tender as the day my mother hovered
and gently swayed little me, her bootie-less
Daughter-No-Socks, in the patchy clover so that
forever after, given a choice , I go
un-socked, liking what these feet find on
a cool green journey of tingle and squish
tall, planted the way she meant for me to grow,
tender in the right places, tickled to tears
I like the idea of growing tender in the right places.
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