Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Land Tells You of Its Composition

Land Tells You of Its Composition

Land tells you of its composition
as it touches the bottom of your boot.

Grit of sand and damp soil,
consistency of wet coffee grounds.
Slick mud clutching a handful
of last year's strands of grass.

Ridged squares of pavement, pockets
of decay noted in the sole
by the sharp solidity of pebbles.

This information is collected
without thought,
is integrated in the body's stride.

Moving measures what does not move.
The body answers with pressure, precision.

2 comments

  1. This poem makes me think of the first time I took Lily to the beach and she put her paws into the sand and I watched her learn from its composition. Thanks for rekindling that memory.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "This information is collected without thought." "Land tells you of its composition as it touches the bottom of your boot." I love poems of yours like these, that help the reader find delight in the everyday, helping us to "see" what we barely recognize, but could.

    ReplyDelete

The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.