Bad Poetry

My Knees are Muddy, But Still I Pray

Despite what they say 

April always tasted of wet grass 

Despite your calls for me to come back inside

My knees dig deep into the ground

I may have sinned

But I am baptized now

By the rain of the spring to come

Renew me!

Renew me!

I scream out into the stirring sky

Ten Hail Mary’s! 

The sky’s whispered suggestion 

And with the mud my cushioning alter 

I pray on sweetly

Sweetly, I pray on