These Boots

These Boots

It is hard to come by good footwear these days.  Once in a while, though you find a pair that is worth every penny.  A tough, rugged pair.  Maybe not pretty but stitched to last.  But eventually the stitching begins to rip and tear and nails become displaced and no amount of polish can mask the scratches and scrapes-the wear of many miles and many heights.  These boots were made for walking and many miles we have trekked. 

There are few places I have been without them.  Stepping on the soil, sand and rock of many countries, the grains of foreign lands engraved in my sole.

A journal of discovery, a microcosm of wonder on the surface of a boot-a testament to my travels.  Austria; Vienna the streets of the Habsburgs, croissants and strudel, schnitzel and beer.  I have walked the streets of Mozart and Schnitzler soaking up the sights and sounds of this historical city, wandering down its Pilgrimgasse and Karlplatz, descending underground to the U-bahn and ascending into the rain. 

The streets of Vienna. 

The dazzling white airport of Seoul.

The red soil of New South Wales and Munich through the snow.  The spongy snow beneath my feet, delighting in the audible crunch and relishing the cleansing cold.  And finally we trek through the stony grey soils of Monaghan in tattered work boots.

The life lived, the snippet of life travelled in a pair of boots, ever reliable.  We traversed many lands before making the journey home. 

I sit down and shake the boots the contents spill onto the floor.  The sand and the soil, the pebbles and dust, accumulate on the floor the matter of nations gathered in a little heap, a mole hill as a testament to my travels.

(2008)