the boots

her boots standing over by the door
ready and waiting
were once white I believe
but years of trekking through the garden and the Georgia clay
in the heat of summer and the cold of winter
had turned them an off brownish-orange
and still they held up

just like the one who wore them
day in, day out
covering her feet so’s the job what needed doing
could get done

she was strong and wore them well
finishing the task at hand before the sun set
when she went in the old house
and set them once again by the door

I bet she’d wonder why all the folks are wearing
the boots
where is the garden that needs tending
which animal in the pasture needs seeing about
which young’un has wandered off out of earshot

her boots were made for working
and that’s just what she’d do

but these boots today
in all kinds of styles and colors
with nary a red clay mark on them
would make her wonder

just where is it y’all are going
that you need those boots to get there?

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