Sylvia Plath - Mushrooms
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
Even the trees can't escape.
I just noticed 2 mushrooms in this photo. I was only aiming to photograph one.
I call this the ballerina mushroom on account of its tutu.
But, the top view is pretty prosaic.
Remember the penis mushroom? This is what it becomes AFTER it lives a few days as a phallus.
And then this.
And, after that, this.
Apparently the penis mushroom is called a shaggy mane, and it is one of the inky caps. It's edible, folks. 8-/
These wee golden fellows were huddled together under some pine mulch.
A few more photographs from today:
A Manitoba autumn day. (The little building is our sauna)
Sun through Oak.
Sun through Elm.
If I don't blog for awhile, it just means I have sun in my hair and leaves in my shoes.
Or...the mushrooms got me.
