Bare Feet

That day, I left my shoes on a dune of sand

And crossed the stretch of tall, waving reeds

And smooth, round pebbles to stand
At the edge of a very unexpected sea.

Waiting at a safe distance
Away from the calm, deep, blue
That stretched as far as my eyes could see
Waiting for the still shy waves to come to me
And gently lap at just my toes
No wet feet - not just yet
I’d rather have my feet haul bags
Of lumpy, wet sand
Into a perfectly clean car.

So I waited.
Each time they came so close
That I bent to touch to touch them
They retreated, like lacy forget-me-nots
Each time I thought I'd guessed
How far forward was best to meet those waves
With just my toes, in the most perfect way
Even when they'd swelled enough
That I was sure they'd graze my feet
They drew back, laughing, just a sliver
Of sandy beach, always left between them
And me.

Then, impatient, I risked a bigger step
Stretching my toes and fingers forth
As far as I possibly could this time
To touch the graceful, vanishing wave
Which decided, just then, on a surge of faith
And grandly washed all over my feet.

Now there are clumps of wet sand
Clinging to my feet, walking back
With me, to my small, spotless car
Soon they will dry and scatter
Little grainy bits of baggage
That I secretly know will be worth
That sublime feeling in my heart
Those moments of peace and simple joy
Of being embraced by a great, deep truth.