Bug Eyes

This is what I do in lecture hall classes.

Muddy Shoes

My shoes were covered in mud.

Yellow blades of grass

stuck out like antennae.

Globs of wet dirt flung as I hopped

from stone to stone,

dry spot to dry spot.

My shoes went through rough trails,

in black night, with sinister limbs

hanging low. Scuffing soles,

and cracking sticks.

My shoes were happy shoes,

like a working dog

with a job.

They worked hard

to be happy.

They sloshed through mud

to be happy.

But,

it was only mud.

All that remains

are stains.

Mud stains

and hope stains.