At Dawn. The Shoes

Which ones shall I put on?

The open sandals
that bring me luck and transparent ideas?

Or the formal black ones,
for the illusion of steadfastness?

Or the soft suede ones
that change the day’s plans?

Or better the boots,
to wade through today’s coarseness?

Maybe my bare feet are enough.
To feel the dew and the soil again

and the puddles at the crossroads
and the weight of other people’s shoes upon them.