Mud and Gold 

Mud in California is a brindled and feral beast
No mythical runny bog, but a good thick paste
Sticky thick with gold, yes, sir! They say easy street

Peat embraces its victims with a word from the priest
Tule is not so kind, strained to hoe nuts and limes
Mud in California is a brindled and feral beast

With pans in hand, they marched from the east
Thin leather soles caked thick like Frankensteins
Sticky thick with gold, yes, sir! They say easy street

Strange black pitch oozes from pits so steep
Men claim to find elephants and cats with six feet teeth
Mud in California is a brindled and feral beast

It never rains, only a morning mist on the skin of a peach
Kneads hard packed clay into peanut butter paint
Sticky thick with gold, yes, sir! They say easy street

Mix that mist with desert soil and it’s a Mojave feast
Wagon trains by the hundreds sank in the shallow beige lakes
Mud in California is a brindled and feral beast
Sticky thick with gold, yes, sir! They say easy street

-Marcy Erb of Illustrated Poetry