Muddy Feet

by Daniel Errico

When rain starts to pour, there is nothing more sweet,

Than a day of splish-sploshing with wet muddy feet.

When I woke, my feet were clean,

Spotless with a sparkling sheen.

First thing’s first, I put on socks.

Then my shoes, to walk on rocks.

Shoes are great for tricky jumps,

Over puddles, logs, or stumps.

Once I laid them on the floor,

Off I went- out the door.

Just before I reached the grass,

Down came raindrops, falling fast.

They weren’t cold- I didn’t mind.

Warm rain is my favorite kind.

Hitting dirt, it mished and moshed.

Pretty soon it splished and sploshed.

The ground was wet and getting wetter.

Dirt is nice but mud is better.

Cause nothing ever will compete,

With hopping round on muddy feet.

I like grass between my toes,

Even though it stains my clothes.

I like sand, from on the beach.

It gets in places hard to reach.

With leaves I like them by the pile.

Never fails to make me smile.

But nothing’s even half as sweet,

As hopping round with muddy feet.

So that is why my shoes came off.

And that is why I caught a cough.

All stuffed up and feeling ill.

I wonder if my mother will,

Clean the dirt that’s on my sheet,

From laying here with muddy feet.