I’m putting on my socks and suddenly it hits me:
These are my current favorite socks.
I’ve had them for a while now, but only just
sparked this insight.
Perhaps their rainbow spectrum
and snug, soft fit speaks
to a new micro-era of my life.
Maybe they imply the promise
of a future built not on thinking
but on putting one foot
in front of the other.
For a minute, sliding them up my ankles,
I imagine a story about a superhero called
Super Socks, who gets his or her powers
from their magic socks. Maybe there
are different pairs for different powers or
maybe it’s just the one pair that they
discover at the beginning of the story
because we’ll want to see how they start
their journey, without the socks, because
they should be ordinary, and they
could be anybody.
But I abruptly snap out of my daydream,
distracted by the static current of whatever
has me convinced that it’s more
I am grateful to have had the moment, though,
to have been reminded to play,
grateful that no matter what the day brings,
I’ll be wearing my favorite socks.