Walking home from the creek,
shoes and socks in left hand
weapon-toy-stick in the other
people stare and heads turn in traffic
mowers are unmanned by weary homeowners
who smile and squint
and look perplexed
See the woman child passing by
stick swinging, naked feet in love with each step
I care not what eyes think sensuous or out of place,
I have discovered the joy in carrying a stick!
a secret kept by little boys
and adventurers on quests
it’s spell makes me into scientist probing insects between stones,
tyrant slashing whip to echoes off concrete overpass walls
Aware of the world through my feet
I know the prickly proddings of weeds on a grassed hill
the sliding satin of dirt on a damp sidewalk
and the pain of every rock that bites into my sole.
-- rebelmeow
