Come Fall

Here in NYC fall has officially come. It is no longer safe to leave the house without a legitimate jacket, multiple layers, and a scarf. Wind rushes off the Hudson and in response I hunch my shoulders up and brace myself. My southern-raised, Caribbean-bred body and soul do not take kindly to the cold (I somehow didn’t inherit that midwestern trait from my dad’s side). But despite my fear of the cold, I do honor and appreciate the changing of the seasons. So recognition of this time transition, here is a poem I wrote about my feet. My feet today and my feet in childhood and my feet in the future.

********

Come fall
summer feet
do not like to be bound
in thick socks
and boots.
They are used to
S P R E A D I N G out WIDE
on thick calluses
earned by
tromping
barefoot
on
gravel
and
hot
sand

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