Poem: Becoming Mushroom

Yesterday, I sat in the violets and dandelions
and watched the bees,
before that it was the redbuds,
reaching into branches
to pick some flowers for jelly
and munching a few straight
from the stems,
sweet pea and springtime
in one purple bite.
I looked for morels too,
found eight of them
shyly lurking at wooded edges.
The lilacs are in bloom
and as I set out on a morel hunt again today
I will pause to sink my nose
into the flowers
and breathe deeply.
Too often lately,
I feel scattered and scurrying,
split between too many needs
and not enough me.
But, for now in the sun,
I let myself feel like a mushroom,
a network of unseen support beneath me
and a great wide sky
of warm possibility above me,
calling me onward.


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