Puddles

Careful where you walk today,
that puddle you gingerly skirt
could be the pooled collective
consciousness of all spirituality

that was or will be. On the other
hand it might just be an innocent
puddle waiting for some little kid
to romp in. Whichever way it

transpires you’re probably no worse
off. I know this because I’ve romped
in a lifetime of puddles; there’s no
way to differentiate between real

thing and plaything. But I’ve
felt that rinse of all spirituality
wash over me. In the nicest way
it’s just like playing in puddles.
© 15 March 2008, I. D. Carswell