The bareness of feet

I like the way the ground feels on my feet. I like to feel the fingers of grass between my toes, the firm girth of the dirt pressing back against my bare soles. I want my feet to be hardened by the love of the earth. Worn and blistered and solid, a mountain range of calluses. I want to be softened in their hardness. And when I die and can walk no more, I want them to say, she knew the grass and the sand and the dirt. I want them to say, she knew the earth by the curves of her feet.