Little Feet

My little feet, unbound,
explore the head space
and wiggle around –
ten little men
with polished faces
are sock jostling;
Big, who takes the brunt,
the lean, the weight,
who makes the point,
and moves the speck,
mounts camaraderie
on his brother,
explores new territory;
the phalanx splays
and closes rank,
pulling in Small, the friend
who keeps them balanced;
and the unassuming middlemen,
the supporters,
quietly get on, as they do –
while my head on the ground,
ungagged and naked-faced,
wonders what is so beautiful
about little feet.