Undertoe

The white and gold

in the mushroom undertoe

draws me in to that peculiar

texture of spongy foam.

Something there is about wild

mushrooms growing

seems magical, mystical;

they seem to harbor a knowing

that we all miss

so busily attending to the non-bliss

of the things deemed more glamorous.

For me, though,

I’d rather shrink myself

and stay awhile or so

in the land of fairies and gnomes

and listen all day to the tales of old

before the curse of growing

and learning, being told

to pay no attention to those

mushrooms undertoe.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise