Mud adores the way it feels between our fingers
Slippery and tepid, full of the grit of tiny stones
Sliding to the aching earth with whispering thuds
We love the way mud smears like it knows it can be cleaned
By throwing in its lot with fresh water instead of our skin
Dust in disguise returns to dust, unabashed
It splashes into new viscosity
And tree roots wonder which is better for food and for home
Wiggle your toes like roots in wet sand
To see how long it takes to topple
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