Mud Season The wide land remains, Released and rearranged, Embraced, glazed by mud Eternal and brown as photographs In village archives of booted children Clutching metal pails before a one-room school, Bare sepia hills showing the long walk home.
We, too, are rearranged, Unable to escape water’s deep courses, This annual reckoning. While trails are closed, we improvise, Seek our footing on the road’s verge. Astonished by Earth’s abundance, We work our way toward spring.
Jean Knox Sandwich and Dorchester MA