Moccasins

Sneakers on,
Laces tight,
Crunching noisily
Along the path,
And wishing…
Wishing for
The silent tread
Of the Cherokee
Who walked these hills
Before him.

Sighing,
He flings himself
Down on the rock,
And stares at the
Campfire.
I could sneak up on deer,
He tells his dad,
If I had moccasins.
I could walk
Quiet, quiet,
Down each trail.
Now I clomp,
Clomp, clomp!
They know I’m coming.
I’ll never see them
Before they
See me.

Dad smiles.
Here, son.
Your mom said
To give you this.

He takes the package,
Curiousity rising,
Even as he tears the paper.
What’s in here, dad?
What did she send?

A flash of brown,
Soft In his hands.
He breathes in
The warm smell of
Leather,
And laughs with joy!
Moccasins!
How did she know, Dad?
Oh, look how soft they are!
I will be silent now,
Quiet as a mouse.
How did she know
I wanted these
So much?

His dad smiles.
Moms are like that, Mac.
Moms always know what
Their children want most.
And Moms always want
Their children to have their
Heart’s desire.

He watches his son
Tearing off his sneakers,
Sliding narrow feet
Into soft, brown leather,
Face aglow with delight,
Current dreams having
All come true.
And he wishes his son’s
Happiness would always be
As easy to come by as
A new pair of
Moccasins.