Pigs and Spring

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Spring decends on me like a pig, surrendering to the pleasure of its mud,

I wallow naked and uninhibited in her coming.

I thrash and flail and flop in the puddle of her seduction,

worshipping in some idiotic, flopping, frenzied welcome.

Surely, she must wonder of the fool in me.

It doesn't matter. I am caked in the mud of pure content

and I will cling to my muddled jubilation,

until Winter comes again, to steal the mud

or freezes my perfect puddle.

Comments 11 comments

brewskitimeguy profile image

brewskitimeguy 4 years ago from Maine

very good...keep it up..keep writing


Nellieanna profile image

Nellieanna 4 years ago from TEXAS

Purely delightful wallowing! :-)


arb profile image

arb 4 years ago from oregon Author

Nellieanna, My puddle so enjoyed your stopping by! Sometimes spring leaves little bonuses along its way!


Nellieanna profile image

Nellieanna 4 years ago from TEXAS

My pleasure! I mean - how to NOT stop and vicariously take in such a glorious scene of uninhibited enjoyment of the season and all it brings, including mud puddles? It's been too long since I indulged in one! Felt good! (And they say mud is good for one's skin, too.)

Maybe they should be called 'muddles'? ;-)


randi 4 years ago

hysterical! You are too funny


AudreyHowitt profile image

AudreyHowitt 4 years ago from California

Loved this! Great sense of word play--cleverly done!


arb profile image

arb 4 years ago from oregon Author

Audrey, I am delighted that you have come again to my playground. Even more, that you have left a note, free from the mud I sling. Thank you for the nice reply!


AudreyHowitt profile image

AudreyHowitt 4 years ago from California

Came back to read this one again--and chuckle!!


arb profile image

arb 4 years ago from oregon Author

Thanks Audrey! Two laughs are better than one and your double visit doubles my delight.


AudreyHowitt profile image

AudreyHowitt 4 years ago from California

I love this side of your work actually--


arb profile image

arb 4 years ago from oregon Author

I suspect mood is the invisible instigator. Sometimes I attempt to go there uninvited and I sent back from whence I came.

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