sometimes just beauty

moment capture

a spot of time gathering,

wool and will gathering,

flotsam and jetsam

of living and breathing mud

moving another bit of mud around,

to have and to hold,

and to touch

how did I get so lucky to have eyes?

we dug holes and then played cribbage, waiting for water to work it's way a bit closer to Urth’s center

just a spot of spontaneity to fight off a rash of doomsday—a salve, a tonic, a breather

support your local community garden, be the mud that moves the mud—there's ancestors in those bogs, deep ones—find them, give them some air, space your life out with em—dashes until editors weep and form unions—

—

but never let it go until it's time for some future mud to move you