They need the right combination of warmth and water, and that doesn’t happen very often.
So far I’ve found one big mushroom on my street and a few little ones on my trails.
Then finally, it showed up.
It really came.
One big trail mushroom. Only one.
That poor mushroom had a very short life so I thought I’d write something special for it.
I call it…
Ode to a Mushroom
Popping out of the ground like a puffy marshmallow
Creating a cover like a china hat
Dropping over dead.
Wasn’t that great?
Do you think I’ll be the next poet laureate?
P.S. I didn’t kill that mushroom. Really I didn’t.