I fantasize about a mud Anna,
a figurine of clay, made at the riverside,
a thing that children do, their mothers
playful, too, their daily work
fresh with discovery

I reimagine life as full of play,
needs for survival
managing to bump along somehow,
be met in flexibility
instead of worry,
with laughter
instead of anxious toil

It could be possible, not that I have a key
for reinventing work and play
in our society,
but for myself, I think I’ll find a sweeter way
the more I can allow myself to play.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 31, 2022

How does it feel
to be a crayon among nails?
Your purpose distinct
but immeasurably far
from the other ones sharing the pocket

Your substance, which never could manage
to do what a nail does,
is suited for doing a thing that they never could do —
they will sink into wood and remain there,
you’ll leave your mark on the surface and stay where you are

There will be times
when the hand reaches in
and picks out the nails one by one,
but at other times,
it will reach through their sharpness
leaving them, searching for you.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 1, 2019