from the time I was younger than three

I sought them out with glee

the watery dirty depths

of a mud puddle step

did so much to satisfy me

 

and later, ‘round the time of eight

I’d stop somewhere short of the grate

ahead of my siblings

with their gleaming white shoe strings

and plunge feet first to my fate

 

then somewhere late in my teens

much too serious for childish things

I carefully walked around

and with regret missed the sound

that splashing mud and water brings

 

now some years have passed

and I’ve earned at last

the right to jump again as I’m able

in imagined giants’ ladles

of water and mud broadcast