Dusting Off

I slipped back inside before the patio door clicked shut. My bare feet carried a fine dusting of garden mulch across the floorboards. On the bottom rung of the bathroom shelf, a folded blue washcloth sat waiting. I climbed up and sat down on the smooth painted slat. The cotton terry felt thick and pillowy underneath. I lifted my right foot across my left knee. With two firm sweeps against the textured loops, the dark garden crumbs brushed right off my sole. Clean ridges. No grit left in the ankle joints. I leaned back into the soft fold and let my legs rest.