Stamp, stomp,
puddle heaven,
fountains everywhere
when you’re seven.

Laugh and howl,
wet socks,
drippy drops everywhere,
forget clocks.

Arrive speckled
with muddy blots,
not welcome everywhere,
stomach in knots.

Will mom see past hems
dripping dark dots?
Rather than dirt everywhere,
she sees cheetah spots!

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Notes: Poets find joy in puddles:

“The world is mud-luscious…
[and] puddle-wonderful”
—  e.e. cummings

Since writing a haibun on puddles, I’ve wondered how cumming’s mother viewed him, arriving home. My poem’s been in its chrysalis, but finally that wondering took shape and spread wings.

Another fun poem about puddles is Puddle Splash by Roann Mendriq:

What is it about rain puddles,
that make one want to splash?
That turns us into children,
in a quick and happy flash?

Read the rest here.

Big thanks to Robyn Hood Black, a wonderful poet and author, for hosting this week’s Kidlitospere Poetry Friday extravaganza.