Feeble Footprints

Feet in boots
never touch cold snow,
nor colder ice below.
First, nestled in polar tech blend
polyester stitched end,
then, snug in rayon liners
made in China,
covered in nylon shell
and sole softened with gel,
last, rubber-coated tread
the boot now heavy as lead.
Oh, my aching back!

Uncovered feet
these never touch the stony street,
or fine dewy grass
or soft pine needle path.
Instead, they walk warm maple
and 100-year-old oak.
Well, almost.
Each board coated
with urethane
or water-soluble sealant
better for your lungs
and brain.
Oh, I must walk slow.
we wouldn’t want to stub a toe,
or get a sprain!

Stinkies in sandals like Jesus
airing in soft summer breezes,
Open toes and breathing spaces
specks of sand
from hard-to-walk sandy places
the nitty-gritty will breach
especially near beach
that’s what sand grains teach.
So, I avoid that place.
Oh, my feet are still safe
--and filled with grace.

Feet finally get cold
very, very cold.
each now in a sock very old
and leather dress shoe,
I'm 86-ed from life’s menu.
Then,
128 years
272 days
3 hours
41 minutes
and some odd seconds
later,
the casket,
varnished and polished rosewood,
--not that anyone can see--
gives way
from weight of ground
and tractor sitting on grave’s mound.
Dirt will pour forth,
fresh soil,
black gold its worth,
fertile life-giving stuff,
mother earth.
She covers my feet.
then, another 2 dozen years,
or so,
through rotted leather
and disintegrated sock,
she finally touches my feet
no longer anything to block.
But, too late, says the song.
for by then
the flesh of foot
is long gone.