1382 – Duck Hunt

Duk Hunt
Note: this is not self-quacking duck mud.

An Ode to Mud

A mash of moisture mixed with grime
to squish between my toes.
The smells of browned and blackened slime
meander up my nose.
The muck that’s stuck upon my shoes.
The puddles in the sty.
So cold, so damp, the sloppy ooze
I form into a pie.
My sticky little fingertips.
This sludge upon my skin.
The stains of dingy, dirty drips
where filthy hands have been.
The mounds of gooey, grimy glop
that follow every flood.
The sounds of squashy, squelchy slop:
There’s nothing great as mud!

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