They are heroic roots
You cannot mistake them
For any other six-foot walker
I could find them in a sea of feet
A planet or universe of feet

They kicked the sky at birth
In that town his great-grandfather found
My man's feet left childhood
Past the mineral grit of an oil flush bust
To these atomic eastbound lands

His feet are made of his mother's spiritual concern
And of his father: historic, and mindfully upright
What walkers—
From mount builder steps that led to the sky maker
Past Spanish galleons, stage coach, and railroad snaker

One generation following another
No other feet but these could bare
The rock stubborn loyal bear
Towering intelligence and children picker upper
That is the one who owns these feet

What an anchor his feet provide
For his unmatched
Immenseability and get up againality

I've danced behind this man in the stomp dance circle.
Our feet beating rhythm together
Man, woman, boy, girl, son, and moon jumper.

My man's feet are the sure steps of a father
Looking after his sons, his daughters
For when he laughs he opens all the doors of our hearts
Even as he forgets to shut them when he leaves

And when he grieves for those he loves
He carves out valleys enough to hold everyone's tears
With his feet, these feet
My man's widely humble, ever steady, beautiful, brown feet.