Invitation to the Mud Pile

In the south, the rain comes
Like breakfast’s call
And the grown-ups frown is our joy,
Mud-pies
Mud-piles
The glee upon our darkened faces,
Cannot compete with our childish hearts.
The gathering of friends
Both true and not
Is beyond the adult functions
Of whither
And not
Our happy faces
Bequeathed to none
Simple grace
Without the sun
I gather dirt within my hand
As others
Follow with swallowed land
Giggles are the gift come nigh
Swallowed gulps of freedom
Lie
I sit inside this puddle of mud
Remembering the past
Both
Yea and Nae
Alone with mud piles
Sunk alone
Remembering pasts
With struggling horn
Come hither friends
Enjoy the mud
Squish between your toes
Press upon
Throw it out
Oh.
I forgot
We’re all grown up.