The Muck, Mire, and Mud

We see clearly the liquid in the cruet, 
yet, the honey needs tasting like the bee
for whom savored every flower in the 
exuberant meadow; though the same akin
bottle above the safety of reach lies an unmarked
deadly liquid that was devoured by a helpless child, 
now, departs one happy family; 
Through the bramble and wood, some youthful sprigs
find the morsel of life-morels, yet, inadequate in 
nature’s trickery pluck every mushroom they see,
whilst eating them like candy, singing and laughing 
all the way to their graves; 
The foggy mist descends upon the valley,
flustered by uncertainty, most wait it out and let
the sun lift the shroud from the morning, though
one cad decided he knew the road well but the cliff
not that much; 
Take stock in everything, including your life, 
there’s no insurance in the world that compensates 
for negligence and stupidity. 

©️ 5/4/2020

  - John Hardesty