March 24, 2017


By John R. Greenwood

Spring-mud dries hard
it coats my shoes,
leaves a trail down the hall,
and tracks across the kitchen floor.

Spring-mud-clumps bring 
fresh excitement for 
sunny days ahead.

Spring-mud is different than 
the muds of summer, fall, and winter. 
It signals the beginning of this
and the end of that. 

Spring-mud is happy mud. 
Stomping children squish it 
beneath their feet, 
smiling playfully—
even a mother’s displeasure 
melts away
replaced with 
a sentimental smile of her own.

Spring-mud smells good. 
Its scent infused with the optimism 
of green lawns, soldiered in dandelions.

Spring-mud footprints leave 
distinct descriptions of their origin.  
Lug-boot impressions let you know 
dad’s across the road in the barn. 
Paw prints turn us into 
animal trackers. 
Size 4 sneakers leave imprints of
pre-school adventurers. 

Spring-mud is joyful 
when you take the time
to read it.