Yellow chanterelles,
simple as a century,
on this unwalked path.

Consequential things—
the otherworld in this world,
learning the beauty.

Vigilant as stars,
mushrooms like spinning night skies
climb the forest tree.

All the small jewels
under the song of the thrush,
sleeping under stars.

Second bloom this year,
first in June, now September—
life in agreement.

This last habitat—
we expected to flourish,
armature in place.

At the riverbank,
families of geese go by
the sprung-up mushrooms.

Mystery runs deep—
life that we don’t understand,
it all slips away.

Asterisk mushrooms
like white stars broken open
on the forest floor.

I cross this threshold
looking for revelation
in the smallest things.

We'll push our way through,
unnoticed and unknowing
our strength is unmatched.

This small universe,
under leaves, under trees, sky—
up from underground.