Barefoot Talk

Arkansas is
where I grew up climbing trees
with skint knees
it is known as a place where
folk might be so  backward as to
walk barefoot

For the most part it has become like the rest of the world
a synthesis of interstate highways
internet hideaways
and interchangeable suburb sets
lacing us up in cotton socks and rubber soles

But some of us still remember what words
the cool grass will share
in the summer afternoon
or the joy of a winter creek
the shift of the rocks beneath

Some of us fear not
the broken glass, black
tar and burning gravel
we have planted in our gardens
Eden is there below
the grit of sand and humus between toes