I speak today in praise of mushrooms,
Who arrange themselves beneath the trees
So gracefully, as if they know
An artist might come along and notice
Their clever composition:
The cluster of the large and powerful,
Who dress themselves
In jewel-like blackberry leaves
But are also broken;
The purity and isolation of the outliers;
The one, purest of all,
Who, cut off from the source,
Lies fallen among dead needles,
Earth, and bark…
No comments:
Post a Comment