Muddy hill, so soaked with rain,
Big flat box, of cardboard grain,
Kids in jeans, and old T-shirt,
Up to the ankles, is muddy dirt,

Top of the hill, we do stand us four,
Soon arms in air, down hill do soar,
One at time, or maybe even two,
Sit on cardboard, slide, yell yahoo,

Land at the bottom, in pile of moosh,
Splat in mud, is sometimes your tush,
Day is damp, as there is no sun,
We care not, having so much fun,

No not the time, it is getting late,
Hill now smooth, like chalkboard slate,
Pick up boxes, now its time to start back,
Walking, leaving behind, a muddy shoe track,

Can feel a slight wind, as it blows,
Mud is starting to dry on clothes,
Walk, walk, shoes start to feel so heavy,
How much longer to reach the levy,

Finally to trailer, on other side of the hill,
All this cold mud, now giving a slight chill,
Shoes off outside, no mud want to track,
Tip toe through, to shower in back,

Turn on water, not too hot as yet,
Clothes off, in pile, they are set,
Climb in shower, enjoy the warm rain,
Dirt flows from body, down the drain,

Wash the hair, as mud is there too,
Find a big clump, and I say ewe,
Finally all clean, from head to toe,
Next to bedroom, for clothes I go,

Clean pair of jeans, and warm T-shirt,
Brush through hair, thankful no more dirt,
Sit back, relax, thoughts there are still,
What a wonderful time, up on the hill…

~California Dreamer@07/09~

Dedicated to my friend “Doug”