Just a Scratch

Cess scratched himself
But before he could pout
Not blood but mud came rolling out.
This made him sweat
A treeful of sap
Which couldn’t help but make him fret.
In fact, it made him cry,
Honey spilled from greenest eyes.
Did his heart pump from puddles?
Had he grown roots and leaves?
Was his brain all full of bees?
Cess still worked fine.
He stopped cryin’,
Patched his scratch with sap
And sipped his self-made sweets.
This mud, too, was a treat,
He could make a gorgeous mess,
You can make anything from mud,
The proof was in young Cess.