I have to say, I find it odd
You don’t appreciate the sod:
You never thank the grass and mud
That holds you up. Perhaps you should.
You never think it might attack
Until you step upon my back:
And then you’re standing, stuck in place
And staring blankly into space
Or trying, frantically to find
The path you’ve somehow left behind
I’ll get you lost. I’ll spin you round.
Although I look like solid ground,
I’m not. So be afraid of me.
Respect the sod. Tread carefully.
Tom Juniper Poetry 