Dancing feet

In the supermarket
I turn to pick up some tomatoes
and find my feet
pivoting in a dance step.

Later on, choosing a bag of sugar, I notice
they’re doing it again – one foot
skimming the outline of the other,
rhythmically crossing
in front
behind.

And I realise that, this weekend
I have danced further than I have walked
and my feet are enjoying
their new,
less pedestrian,
vocation.

Indeed my feet feel alive -
tingling softly with a happiness
that seems to have very little to do
with what my mind is thinking. So
wherever I go, I arrive on a cushion
of happiness
(like a hovercraft on air)
which makes it hard to be sad, or daunted.

A strange feeling -
to walk around on happy feet
and feel cheerfulness spread up my body
as if every tiny cell is dancing
to some unheard music.