Naked Feet Moved


It happened in a rare and precious misted morning.

Filtered through trees came the secrets of sky

meeting earth in a churning hazy dew

sifted and snaking into rolls of coil.


Like the breath of lovers leaving a trace of their pantings

fogged in and without a care of condensation

the remains of soupy vapour and sweaty flesh

dampened (as if we wouldn’t notice.)


Just at the point where the warmth found under

pushed up against the cool dropped from above

was the meeting place of wet on naked winter limbs

a thickened mass of haze, a murky wall.


Its urgent staying called me out into the cotton air.

At a distance I could see the Glastonbury-woodshed,

the Isle of Priests-bench and the vanishing-point

pathway that meandered on to Avalon.


One in front of the other, naked feet moved


the path dropped away from the earth

and I was in.

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One Response to Naked Feet Moved

  1. Karen says:

    I love the evocative imagery of your writing Lori. It is soulfully stirring and mindfully thought provoking. ♥

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