they
                call it earthing

                to pad along shoeless, prying fear

                from between curled toes
              
              

                                my
                bare feet

                pulse along shoreline

                                my
                blood
              
              

                follows me

                from Minnesota roots

                to the puddle chest:
              
              

                rain waxes      a moon

                evaporates pondwater

                                my
                own bones
              
              

                make the moss-limb

                house of my new backyard

                                I’m
                no more scolded
              
              

                for running naked of shoes

                for living as if there were no stingers,

                glass shards, dog shit, pine pitch
              
              

                                now
                feel: egg-print heal

                pressed to sand

                or river mud, mark both
              
              

                sole and soul

                                I
                earth

                into place