Summer Soles


When we could be our own heroes, we
started at our pampered soles. Three
seasons in socks and shoes had turned
our paws tender, spongy and pale,
from peasants’ tools into princes’
dainties. Come summer we were
warriors in training. Our chosen Parris
Island is the two mile course of stones,
concrete, and sun-hot asphalt across
town to our cousins’. Hardening our
feet seemed brave, and defiant as we
ignore orders to wear sneakers. Ouch
prancing over sharp street alps soon
gave way to striding. Puerile daring
won. In movies, TV and comic books,
pretend heroes fought and flew. Kids
knew nothing outshines light from
inside. We beamed bravado.

About the Author

While a long-time Bostonian, Michael Ball grew up rural in Oklahoma and West Virginia. Likewise, after careers in newspapers and geeky magazines, he has become one of the Hyde Park poets. Decades in Manhattan and Boston have not erased farm and country background.

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