Shall I lament the endless days of rain?
Perhaps not when my lover I beguile
To take me to the forest’s mesic lane
The treasured place of every mycophile.

A lion’s mane and scaly chanterelle
A sulfur shelf and aspen scaberstalk
A humble puffball, truffle, and morel,
Will fill our vessels on our forest walk.

Our ‘shrooms we’ll fry, and some we’ll bake or stew
In butter, garlic, wine and ginger root
And drooling with delight we’ll chomp and chew
Until we’ve eaten all our baskets’ loot.

Alas, I’ll have to wait ‘til the next rain
To forage with my mycophile again.

© 2019, Ren Miller. All rights reserved.