daily mud

.
I’m most prone to fall into the mire of meaning when I’m down
It’s then I resort to stars as if they might pin awards
upon my chest: rewards for imminent understanding 

as if I might win the Medal-of-the-Unknown’s-Honor for piety
instead of for keeping my head in the machine of moment
taking it in, knowing the bliss of laugh,
tending the scrape on a daughter’s hand or heart wound
feeding a mouth, shoeing a foot, taking little, chewing cud

as if there were some truth greater and more sublime,
more holy, more worthy of wonder than that found here
in our daily mud

.

by Jim Culleny
8/12/11

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s