Matching socks

The footloose dryer tosses them free: This tumble of family footwear for me To sort and pair, by their color And clocks and sizes and some of them Sheerly by intuition of whose shapes Are which feet. Smoothing these shadows Of feet, I hear shadow-sounds: Footfalls coming and going away again Of the family's small and grown, matched For some little time by our clocks Before losing, by ones and twos losing, The fleetest who fit this morning's clean socks.