On barefeet (and finally being able to post photos~thanks Lou)

I love bare feet. Not necessarily to look at, but the feel, the shape of the earth under them. And, then I came across this poem by Alastair McIntosh, called transfiguration from Love and Revolution.

barefoot, you know the touch of flesh on earth
some rivulets are warming to the step
they've long flowed over sunny slopes
and others keekit coyly from the spring
...they're the icy-feeling ones
to cup the hands and drink

and you tread the ground more gently
when out walking in this way
you don't cut in with hard-heeled boots
but softly contour toes
to grip the land on equal footing
leaning forwards better seeing what is waiting on to be found there
on passing by unharming over emerald sod set in
with mandalas of tormentil that salve the heart pursed open now
a golden blossomed harmony, a sermon of small things