Sonnet #4 Mud

At the request of Megeuy Baker.

I feel that this could be a lot better if I just worked on it a little more.

When april's gentle rains have come and gone
and left the streets awashed away of snow
I step out of my door to my front lawn
and squish the good soft mud between my toes

Adam's name is mud, so says the Lord
(He's a might annoyed at him these days
about that apple, or maybe that he snored)
but Adam's made of mud, and mud remains

So when children go forth at last to play
at winter's end when finally days are warm
it is to the mudhole they will stray
to join with what we all have been before

Good mothers, do not chastise much your kin
for muddy play. That's just orig'nal sin