large bungle spill
of ill-advised emotions
who rushed out blind,
not even slowing down
in their blustering forays
to hear the voice of their mom
who, had they listened,
would have counseled
that playing on this ground
always results in getting doused
in whatever slop you try to throw.
She could have guided them
to more productive fields,
but no, they had to go
and try to conquer
in all the places
where they had to fail.
No matter. Tonight
she will tuck them in.
They will sleep. Tomorrow
she will try again
to help them get up in the sun.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 4, 2017
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