Hog In The Muck
What a thing to live through, life.
What a thing to come to, death.
That’s it. I wish not to muse more.
All wise things said before
by those better with the pen.
I cluck awake at cock crow,
and like a hog I wallow in the muck again.
And yet, how often, I bless my luck,
to grunt content, a hog in the muck.