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.
Funny--love it! One of the other bloggers calls that "mudnure".
ReplyDeleteGreat poem! I think mud is worse than snow.
ReplyDelete