Despite How Much I Adore Warm Socks
Grains of desert cling to my toes
As if obedient to my plea that my feet shall never leave this earth.
I see warmth.
Negligent to the rays lubricating the nape of my neck
With my own perspiration,
And the breath of the sea with its foam.
In the worn books on nomadic bookshelves;
In the multicolored metal upon which muscles are strained;
In the orange dust where I have walked
This time last year —
And the year before;
In the ripened hands that kneed the bread
That has risen with our prayer
And savored on the nights given leave to relax,
I see warmth.
Paradoxical – Diverse Unison
Hung before every door hinge
Each outlet interconnected with strings of the same brand,
Colors of sightly varied hues
but interwoven
Behind the blue of the sea
And the white of the sand
And the brilliance of the stars on the nights spent awake.
I ask only for warmth to embrace my toes
So they may not find reason
In winter socks.