by Carla M. Cherry

tonight I walk without shoes

moonlight, my guide
grass tickling soles
bathed in dew drops
I sidestep dandelions
they be weeds, but oh,
those yellow blossoms
these crickets
enraptured by nightsong
I follow their chirping

tonight I walk without shoes

no sirens in this rural refuge
no glass shard sparkle on sidewalks
no plastic bags dance on the wind
no cars rocking deep bass

but tomorrow, at sunrise
I will long for
my sky-high view
of the Hutchinson River,
the diamonds shimmy-shaking
across its current on sunny days,
the blasting horns,
rumbling wheels against tracks,
opening and slamming front doors,
mumbled good mornings on the elevator,
the slap of my sneakers on concrete/blacktop,
before my bus pulls off

but tonight I walk without shoes