My Mischief

M is for Mischief in a meadow, at one with Mother Earth, the mountains and the music of the meadow lark’s melody.

Mischief munches a meal without mishap as a marsh mirrors the midday minute or the moonglow at midnight.

Moss on the moist stream banks, minnows in the meanders, mosquitoes in the morning, all mingle in mutual accord in the midst of this mountain mien.

No monetary value resides here, but a mental mellowness murmurs peace in a mysterious, merciful meeting with nature.

What’s that movement in the marsh? A moose? A mermaid? (Actually, an elk.) No matter. All melds into myriad memories, a metaphor for the land of milk and honey.

In this manner, my M mission is managed.

Mischief in a May meadow.

(Mischief is a 19 year old Arab gelding, mellow, manageable, and mine.)

For M words, magical, mysterious, or mutinous, go to Mrs. Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday here.