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