Mister Mud

Mister Mud is my name. Dirt is my game.

From this glorious ground, bountiful abundance

my shovel has found.

Turning the soil so rich and alive.

My paws in the dirt, it’s here where I thrive.

A seed pushes up through this rocky land,

loves water, sunshine, and my tending hand.

With attention and care her blossoms bloom,

growing a harvest, we shall feast on soon.

With family and friends, and those in need,

we share these gifts that grow from a seed.

No beauty compares to a nourished soul,

So, we thank our neighbors and fill their bowl.

When the moon rolls up and our bellies are fed,

We howl at the moon and snuggle in bed.

Blossoms begins with a thought, or a dream.

Plant and nurture, even if silly they seem.

What will grow from your tiny seed?

A flower, a poem, or a book to read?