Nowhere yet has a footfall proven
adequate to its situation
Waiting for the boots to call out
from their stall by the door

Boots wet with river and a field's muck
Boots that touched a swollen sheep
lain there and a swollen yellow cat
lain there rain in its hair
little rivulets running down its body
its hair in wet swirls

Boots that found it there beside the road's calzada
A little grass grown round it far too soon
and no one to bring it to the earth again
though it touches the earth

and the boots touch the earth
that's all they do
touch the earth
that's all they do