I spent years at the edge.
I paraded with my picket sign
to demonstrate my disdain for the dregs,
lobbied for others to clean up their act,
slung my share of dirt
in the hopes that none of it would come home to me.
I washed my hands of it.
But you –
you put on your rubber boots
and slogged into the middle of your mess
and made mud pies.
You got up to your elbows in it
and your laughter sang
and your eyes widened at the wonder of it all
and I dared to hope
that maybe here,
in the middle of the mud,
there might be something real.
Something that smelled of soil
rain and sunshine woven
into a thing of beauty.
Your laughter is gone, now –
but I bought a new pair of boots
and I’m hungry.
I’m hungry for
This made me think of my youngest daughter who loved to sit under the trampoline and eat mud
Haha! The things kids do….
Nothing like a good mud pie, unless it’s a mud run. Come on over, Melody. http://www.mudsweattears.co.nz/ Mud is good for you. 🙂
Ha! It’s growing on me. But can’t I ease into it?? 🙂
I am sure you could slide in very gently. Mud is very flexible.
I can’t just “like” this…I love it.