Mushroom tracks

I went for a walk today, and happened upon a dozen parasols. They’re delicious, beautiful, and made me think. The perfect mushroom.


Imagine a field,

At night when you don’t see,


The mushrooms break free.

The moss shakes slightly,

Moved by the cap,

Shoved aside quite politely,

Makes way for the curious chap.

It will not stop,

They will always keep pushing,

While you sleep, shop,

Very slowly, never ambushing.

The only signs

You ever might see,

Upturned moss on the sidelines,

Innocuous cap, standing carefree.

When you walk,

Do you look at what’s around?

Might come as a shock,

There’s more to be found.