Fungus is Such an Ugly Word

Earth's Magnificence - The Forest Fungi Fete

Have you ever seen a purple fungus, a passionate prince among the forest frippery?

No? Come with me to the dark, dank, damp, musty wilderness where last August I quite literally stumbled upon the party of the year, and me in my drab walking togs.

The Fungi Fete

Rain and wind heavy and heaving

Weighted, pounding trees’ branches leaving

The sky a flat, unforgiving, slate gray

We expected the rain to end yesterday

On the cusp of clearing, nature’s dark, damp, and wet

We flee to the forest to savor the fragrance

Of rot, soon forgotten at the fungi fete

Perfect, velvety orange dome, this groom waits in his regalia

The paths are like sponges supple and full

Their waterlogged pathways hushing our steps

As we dash here and there - paparazzi to the fungi’s brilliant display

Not one, two, or three varieties; but a dozen or more pull

Us onward deeper into the gloom as thunder returns with an ominous roll

Is Mini in town? We’d not thought we’d snap her.

Ascertaining our time’s come to premature end

We run full-out back the way that we came

Sky darkens, deepening it’s gloom but we’re supplicants

Thankful to witness this fete

Seeing princes, and queens, and peasants alike

We graciously exit their delicate site

Their pageantry we’d not seen as of yet

Until capturing their splendiferous fungi fete

My favorite, a queen, the toast of the mallows

Ladies in waiting, flowery flibbertigibbets, simpering and shallow

Crowds of peasants, lesser lichen abound

Until, like drunken patrons, at night’s end they fall to the ground

Look, either tell me what you think about this or tell me your troubles. I’m starting a podcast to listen to people’s troubles, so I can ignore my own.