Dew-kissed grass licks bare soles
seeking crocus crowns.
Cool liquidized sand
oozes between nail-polished toes.
Pulverized brittle red-gold leaves
prickle calloused heels.
Cold floor tiles ~
prelude to hot soaking bath.
Barefoot by the season,
almanac supreme.
lillian the home poet 
I like those toes in the surf! Looks good to me.
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Smiling I am….with that water tickling my toes! 🙂
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Seems like every time I read your words I discover how truly kindred we are. Barefoot is how life should be lived. I am taken by the cleverness of the first lines – soles can be read as souls, changing the types of crowns that are sought. Wonderful trip through the seasons in barefeet! Dig those tan lines in the photo 🙂
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Ah — so glad you caught that play on words. 🙂 We do seem to be simpatico so many times!
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Novelty at its best! A fun read. I like what Jilly had to say and totally agree. 🙂
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Glad you enjoyed! Digging around for my Lois Wilson photos to copy and email to you. Wife of Bill W…..as we discussed.
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Groovy. 😎😎😎🥀🥀🥀
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Thanks!
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