Give Something Back

Blisters on my feet.
Can't sleep again.
Hand fit hers
but now won't rest
on top of the staff.
Is each stride towards
or from something?
Both old fool.
You have spring legs
with lead in their soles.
What you carry light as words
that smack of large matters.
Free them with proper names
gleaned from the cosmic nest.
Wash them in bubbling-forge waters.
Shake them over a small, side-eyed creature.
Offer them purified in a hugging whisper.