Mud in my eyes
Mud in my fingernails
Mud in the tongue
Mud in the insoles
Mud in the eyelets
Mud in the treads
Mud in the laces
Mud in the stitching
Mud in the cracks
Mud in the crevices
Mud in the cloth
Mud in the plughole
I wonder how
There’s any left lingering
In yesterday’s
Most muddy fields
Today’s task? Cleaning the muddy boots from yesterday’s mucky walk (see Poem 408).
(19.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Martin Martz on Unsplash
The postman delivers a set
of new mats for the car,
to stop me from wiping the mud
from my feet on its floor.
These mats all resemble the one
that we’ve put by the door,
to stop us from wiping the mud
from our feet on the floor.
My feet seem to cause so much grief
everywhere that they tour!
There must be a much better way
to keep mud from the floor…
Perhaps I’ll stick mats on my feet
with some string from our drawer?
And with no more contact there’ll be
no more mud on the floor!
I did receive new mats today…
(08.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Dmitry Ganin on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 