I Seek to Stumble

Bramble switches lay quiet
waiting
waiting for unwary feet running haphazardly
prick
stab
tumble
blood on my new stockings.

Yesterday, only yesterday I
washed them and now
rust stains and

tiny tears
rolling down my cheeks.
The meadow looked so green,
how was I to know?

Perhaps my feet picked the thorns
not unaware at all, 
but subconscious
toes seeking stocking revenge. 

© Emily Bragg 2013