Barefoot Mornings

9/1/2025

By Ellie HoovsPublished about a year ago • 1 min read

My toes drink the morning dew

lingering on blades still emerald

despite the creeping chill of fall.

My soles feel the rhythm of the earth,

the deep pulsing of an ancient beat,

and seeks synchronicity

with the red clay metronome,

longing to take only wisdom,

and an oak strong sense

of belonging.

Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.

My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb

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