The Ghost of Other Feet

The beautiful photo, taken by my friend David Steele in Santa Fe, inspired this post.

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The Ghosts of Other Feet (in 100 words or fewer!)

I feel the ghosts of other feet.  Who, following the yellow sun riding the crest of the ridge, skipped the path, scuffing the dust in a fit of deliciousness at being alive? Who trudged the deadfall-strewn path, winded, burdened by failure? What lovers strolled, hands entwined, too drawn to each other’s faces to capture the slipping light? The roots of the sky-poking trees must absorb the footfalls, releasing them like vapor, like ghosts of human experience, into the evening-cool air.

One thought on “The Ghost of Other Feet

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