Some irresistible part of puddles
calls to toes, even those of giants.
Maybe it’s the sheer muddiness,
the squish, the wet, the way
It lets you feel glued to the ground
and still free to wiggle.
Maybe it’s the way the puddles show you
how you look against sky, or the fact
that they sing of spring and bring
forth worms and tadpoles. Maybe
it’s the here-today-gone-tomorrow
part of them that makes you think
you’d better wade right in while
the wading’s good. Toes know.
They hear the call. And in they go.
It’s irresistible.