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| Cannon St., Charleston, S.C. |
Mushrooms
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
Sylvia Plath
7 comments:
The lighting in this image is quite lovely. Never really thought mushrooms were this beautiful before now! And the poem - a perfect post!
Thanks Cathy. Suddenly I see mushrooms everywhere I look. This poem fit perfectly.
Your rain had presented you with many mushrooms to photograph, yet I'd hate to have them "inherit the earth!"
I thought someone had dropped their dinner rolls!
I've been tempted to put tiny rocking chairs and mini hammocks under them for photos :)
It does kinda look like that!
YES! These things grow so quickly and pop up everywhere! Very nice the poem and the photo!
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