In the dark, yawning forest
Fungal hyphae nudge the soil
Rain rises rings of rounded fruit

She knives plump porcini at their fat base
Slippery jacks and saffon milk caps
Spores drift like bridal veils

The basket fills, the forest breaths
Unawares, she picks a death cap
Deceptive little fucker

She falls, wedded to pine needles
Blood and bone nourishes mycellium
Weaving through dissolving flesh

The following Autumn, searching
They find her with the amanitas
A mushroom nursery.

I've clearly been spending far too much time in the woods. I started with one haiku, and kept going - what fun. A conversation with @owasco brought this away from the strict syllables of haiku into something more free verse.

Once I started with growth, death seemed the next step, resulting in growth again. And a warning - make sure you check your mushrooms and make sure you are 150 percent sure it's the right one. People have been known to be poisoned for one toxic mushroom accidentally ending up in the stir fry! Parasols, like the one below, are notorious for being confused with more toxic mushroom look a likes. I found these in my garden today. I was reading a news article where a mother and daughter found these in their garden and ate them, ending up in hospital. I can never quite understand why people do this - there's so much information out there to help you identify them correctly.

There's always darkness in nature. Things we don't understand or expect. And death too, yes. Rot and cold, fog and moonlight. Whether we are there or not, things are born and die, feeding the forest in cycles of growth and decay, ad infinitum.

This is an entry to Blockchain Poet's 'Dark Forest' theme for this week on Hive. I hope you enjoyed it!