Mushrooms

In the dim dank darkness
of a misty morning
they are first seen.
Soft white eruptions
knee bones, skulls,
bleached white and round
appear on the top field.

On tight trimmed turf
That tinkers ponies grazed
all summer, a crop not sown.
emerged overnight,
growth that came fast
on early dew washed grass.

Mushrooms, gift,
of sweet mycelium,
sprung fresh from black soil
in clumps and flushes
abundant on bare patches
between the rough and rushes.

We come early with pots and pails,
pans and brown egg baskets
to collect the delicate and delicious
dome shaped bounty.

Round, smooth and satin soft,
sensual to sight and touch,
the thrilling pink of frills and gills
of lamella, delicate as rose petals,
the aroma vibrant, earthy rich.

Sprung from dormant fronds
fecund streams invisible strand
of seeding spores.
Waiting for the light and heat
of early autumn.

The feast of flesh, a gluttons spread,
Mushroom soup and fried flats
as big as dinner plates.
The succulent and sweet taste of earth

-Dave Kavanagh

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