Calloused

a quick observation

My hand brushed the sole of my foot 
As I slid on my sock this morning. 

I paused. 

There was a roughness
I wasn't used to. 

When I was a child I'd wear my tennis shoes
Right up to the beach. 
I had an aversion to 
Sandals, flip flops, and bare feet. 

But as I was hiking several weeks ago, 
I had the sudden impulse to 
Take off my shoes and socks. 

The ground felt foreign but alive. 

I slowed my pace. 

My ears opened up to the sounds of the Forest,
Unencumbered by the violent crash of shodden feet. 

My soul was cleansed by the 
Diversity of textures under my soles: 
Leaves and pine straw, soil, rocks, and
Sweetgum balls. 

Now the sock is on, followed closely by 
My shoes that provide the comfort of
Uniform surfaces. 

I head into the world of asphalt and concrete, 
Divorced from the natural world. 

Cause of separation: convenience and so-called safety. 

I want to feel the mud between my toes. 
I want to float across the grass. 
I want to step on a pinecone. 

Make me lie down in green pastures. 
Lead me beside still waters.