Grimbeau

The mist lifts, revealing droopy,

vernal, Amazonian gloop.

Parallax, do my eyes sin?

In the clearing, by the wheelie- bin

The sure sign of alien matter

on the ground,

Gin Pink, silver-bowed, twenty some.

Beside these espadrilles, wellies, moccasins,

Clogs, Hush Puppies, Wellingtons…

Meaningful action of a sort,

concrete intent shown

But no feet in sight to date,

A gradual escalation,

Built on compromise,

a virtuous circle of footwear

Like a fairy ring,

a presence in the region.

Something’s afoot

Nearing completion

After the socks,

come the feet and arms.