“Field of Mud” — A Poem by Zoe

The pit pattering has stopped
The roof now knows silence
No more tiny drops on its head.

The grass welcomes the wetness
With a glowing green,
With each leaf making a small shiver in gratitude.

However, the ground is a field of mud
Red glue sticking cozily to your skin
As your legs wade through.

Though the heavens released a ball of showers
Even though the grass shivers in ecstacy
The ground only feels remorseful.

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