Squishy Squishy Mud
It feels so
Good
Squishing mud through your
Toes
Watching little ones
As they discover
A new art form
Painting their
Bodies
As they create their own
Stories
And when they light up
And realize they can paint their
Faces
Beautiful little
Bodies
Waiting for the next
Rainfall
So they can create a new
Portrait
08/19/2020
Why does this image go with this poem?
I never intended to use a landscape image for this poem but a night on the mudflats in Cape Cod changed all that. As the tide receded it’s story appeared. People fishing and beach combing, others splashing in the harbor enjoying the last warmth of the sun. There were 5 other serious photographers with tripods and many more hand holding phones doing selfies as the day gave way to night. Finally the sun dropped onto the horizon, there was a ripple of applause from behind me as the people picnicking showed their appreciation of the sunset. As for me I was fascinated with the last of the light as it rippled and reflected on the squishy, squishy tidal pools.