where the soft curve of brown
that I'm looking for turns out,
every time, to be acorns,
or the soft lobes of oak leaves
settling down. It is their season now,
it seems - they rest together quietly,
intimate whispers in the dampness,
curling in for winter's rest
I ask my belly then
to send an invitation to the mushrooms
to join the dance of things
that unlock molecules
so elements go free
to seek out other pairings
It is happy to oblige
and soon I find some mushrooms
in the amber tones of its delighted language
There is more to learn of this
than what I noticed here - the invitation
extends to me -
to come back often
to join this dance.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 18, 2021
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