The Aging of Mushrooms & Men – a poem and photo essay

The Aging of Mushrooms & Men

Mushrooms in
decay                                                                           A special kind of beauty                                                                         Aging is more than okay                                                                            It’s kind of creative duty.

Their colors are muted but deep
A testament to
age                                                                               Their story is something to keep                                Something of value – a sage.

Rubbery and
brown                                                                           Bites out of them some                                                                           Wear red – why wear a frown
Where their substance comes from.

Something about their state of decay
Their obvious imperfection                                                                 Their richness, I beg to stay
Their essence and insurrection.

Aging milkweed no longer attracts
Butterflies are drawn to the young
Fruitfulness is happy to relax
Content to remain unsung.

A celebration of life                                                                                No need for a funeral                                                                          Their legacy sharp as a knife
In words, verse, even numeral.

Sleeping butterfly ended too soon                              “Miles to go before I sleep”                                                                      Life protracted maybe ’til noon
Frost said when thinking thick and deep.

Some mildewed green from too much rain
Others I passed, camouflaged were they
Still more baked brown from sun that then came
Why I delight in them I cannot say.

Mangled by the very nature that gave them birth
It takes a village she said                                                                        With light dancing about them with mirth
Some choose hiding instead.

Like Alice in wonderland                                                                 Under the mushroom cap
Life cannot be bland                                                                           When you live in such rich sap.

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