Summer Herald
The only way I can detect the changing of the seasons - since I am permanently confined in the underground train station corridor - is from the changing footwear styles of my customers. The appearance of sandals on bare, freshly pedicured feet, for example, heralds the arrival of summer!
I still have to kiss feet, however - whatever the weather; come rain, hail or shine!
Such a pretty herald of summer... |
...a summer angel! |
The heraldic angel elects not to speak to me... |
...but rather, lets her feet do the talking - presenting her pedicured, right foot to my menial mouth... |
...so that I might humbly and worshipfully kiss-respect it |
Her left foot then follows |
I taste her orange toes... |
...the fresh toes of summer! |
Such a fragrant feminine foot... |
...reeking of summer meadows and fresh flowers (mixed with the delicate aroma of sandal leather!) |
Not like the musty and leathery shoes and boots of winter! |
All too soon the herald angel proceeds on her way... |
...secure in the knowledge she has made my summer's day and brought sunshine into my lowly life! |
Meanwhile, I keep my humble head suitably bowed behind her angelic toes... |
...my first taste of the summer outside! |