A Pail of Warm Water

I will soon be ready
to wash my feet
in a pail of warm water.

My feet have tread
the worn path along the river
baptized by sluggish water
of the idle channels and marsh.

My feet have tread
in the sand along the highway
unhurried by the rush of speed
that is often mislabeled as progress.

My feet have tread
upon the souls of lost individuals
who could only point
the way of the passing truth.

I will soon be ready
to wash my feet
in a pail of warm water.