Dusty Boots

Dusty Boots

August 19, 2019

13 pairs of dusty boots

traverse the veins

of this body,

tread upon her ancient skin,

float upon her sacred blood.


Like vines on an old brick wall,

footprints linger,

breath echoes,

heartbeats sync.

A rhythm constructed

with patience,

held in a delicate balance,

played only for

one pair of ears


This lake has no ego.

These trees hold no grudge.

This soil bears no teeth.

These rocks know no greed.


This land shows no fear.

This body serves no human.


Nell, Berkeley, Yellow Hats