Shoetrees
dogs are barking
By Halifax
Promises
after aglets on our laces go missing
their ties intertwine gnarled bramble
till they twist to pair gathered nests
laying cockleburs inside matted felt
Choices
knotted ends prevent further fraying
lest additional losses become regular
snips to free thorn seed hitching rides
out roughneck fields wandered past
Commitments
pony lashed together over a branch
empty shoes swing closer to the sun
declaring this place as good as any
to set down root and suffer life away
I missed this one last week. Reading this piece, I get a real sense of the writer harkening back to his youth and remembering a seemingly mundane aspect having to do with shoes in idyllic life. Now though, the mundane takes on meaning with metaphorical significance. We as people are like shoes, wearing ourselves here and there, becoming worn with the trappings of our travels. Very good, sir! Thanks for sharing!