Rough Shod
A floor of dead rusted leaves rustle and crackle
Crunching their crisp skins dancing under my feet
Shuffling with sodden soil thick with grit - I grapple
With sticky dew grass and spongy peat
Alligatored tree bark grabs my hands then bites as I shamble
Holding on for balance on uneven chards of scalloped stone
Dazed by the cool dark mist in this early morning amble
I am rough shod but heart happy right down to my bones!
Copyright © Lonna Blodgett | Year Posted 2023
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