Ode To My Socks

Mara Mori brought me
 a pair of socks
 which she knitted herself
 with her sheepherder’s hands, 
two socks as soft as rabbits.
 I slipped my feet into them
 as if they were two cases
 knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
violet socks,
 my feet were two fish made of wool, 
two long sharks
 sea blue, shot through
 by one golden thread, 
two immense blackbirds, 
two cannons, 
my feet were honored in this way
 by these heavenly socks.

They were so handsome for the first time
 my feet seemed to me unacceptable
, like two decrepit firemen,
 firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
 of those glowing socks. 

Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation 
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
 keep fireflies,
 as learned men collect
 sacred texts, I resisted the mad impulse to put them 
in a golden cage and each day give them 
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
 Like explorers in the jungle
 who hand over the very rare green deer 
to the spit and eat it with remorse, 
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
 the magnificent socks and then my shoes.

The moral of my ode is this:

Beauty is twice beauty
 and what is good is doubly good
 when it is a matter of two socks
 made of wool in winter.

~Pablo Neruda

Chilean poet, diplomat and politician

May your day be filled with gratitude and good things!