Thursday, December 16, 2010

Mud

The dogs raucously race
leaving wet muddy pawprints
all over the place.

The horses rolled and then dried
In the pasture that
has become a slip-n-slide.

Wet hay they trample and crush
leaving behind
heavy green goopy mush.

Our muck boots are mucky;
Our jeans are all wet.
More rain tomorrow
if we are lucky.

2 comments:

  1. Funny--love it! One of the other bloggers calls that "mudnure".

    ReplyDelete
  2. Great poem! I think mud is worse than snow.

    ReplyDelete

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