A healthy body wants only what it needs. A healthy mind acts accordingly. The stars were still bright at four this morning. Even then I could hear robins singing up the street. No shoes or socks: I was listening with my feet. Red, purple, pink: three big barrels of geraniums, three plants in each. They join us at each meal. Being geraniums is an art: sometimes we are in the […]
daybreak / a singing robin / sees my toes / then sings a little louder Canvas 874 April 12, 2017 . [ 1067 ]
She is wise, this old earth. She never hurries herself, yet see how abundant she is. not how much we do but how little . . . our bare feet in the flower bed . [ 1066 ]
barefoot in the garden / I am as warm as the first sunflower sprout April 2, 2021 . [ 1065 ]
O the language of fear! Medicine, borders, finances. Differences, conspiracies, laws. barefoot through cherry blossoms touching each trunk in the old city park . [ 1064 ]
from crooked streets these bare feet greet a starling river . [ 1062 ]
Chilly dawn. Bare feet. Wet concrete. Writing mossy sidewalk with my toes. March 26, 2021 . [ 1058 ]
Cold mountain. Blue dawn. White wings. Ancient times were not so long ago. Those to come? What will they bring? And whose are these bare feet? Canvas 1,086November 8, 2017 . [ 912 ]
A barefoot journal, written entirely outdoors — why have I never done such a thing? This afternoon, within five minutes of walking out into the warm grass in front of the house, I was renewed and restored. Whatever the time of year, I’m in the habit of going barefoot inside — but it’s not the same. Five hours or five lifetimes — carpet is carpet, tile is tile, vinyl is […]
Bare feet on the tile floor — the sensation of cold traveling instantly from soles and toes through limbs and on through the top of the head — or was it something I thought, or lost, or said? This morning’s nigh-full setting moon, illuminating great towering clouds. To be illuminated just so, and blessed to never know. And after even the heaviest of rains, the air remains. Need I look […]
