Do not dive head-first in that puddle of mud.
Most people know a puddle's not so deep;
Wade, wade, slowly into the brackish crud.
Though mud is fine between the toes, the blood
Is best inside the body. I beg you keep
Your head. Don't dive into that puddle of mud.
Young children love a mess and if they should
Discover puddles in the mud, they'd leap
And not wade slowly in the brackish crud.
Dogs all clipped and groomed, who mostly would
Obey, keeping their tresses tidy, heap
Their bodies into any puddle of mud.
Cows are thinkers; in rain, they chew their cud,
Musing on this world, and seem to weep.
They wade slowly through the brackish crud.
And you, my friend, don't fret you're not a stud.
Looks, like puddles, only go so deep.
Do not dive head-first in that puddle of mud.
Wade, wade slowly into the brackish crud.
--Beth Gylys
Circle
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Wondering what UCLA alumni poets are up to? Check out Circle Poetry
Journal, a published-by-referral-only journal, coming out Fall 2013. First
Cycle includ...
11 years ago
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