I smell the rain before it drops from
Heaven…
I feel the droplets
Gentle…
At first; cooling me on a hot day
Massaging…
The rocks in my back
Now it’s stronger and demanding
Saturating…
The Earth of my being
For….
I am the soil
Water drowns the tiny holes
Insects…
Have dug for their home
My…
Only supply for air
Once…
My soil becomes
Wet, dark and ugly
Splatters…
I’m the remaining
Mess…
For I am
Mud…
7:47 PM
Vera Jackson © 2013
Apr 30, 2014 @ 13:36:18
I like this poem… Mud glorious mud… When I work in my garden I quite enjoy getting muddy, I think it must be something to do with reminding me of when I was a child.
You have a beautiful blog and a beautifully honest way of expressing your thoughts.
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Apr 30, 2014 @ 14:16:03
Thank you. I write raw and simple!
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