lying on a forest floor watching a mushroom

by Jasmyn Huff, on integrity

heavy summer heat oppressive

integrity broken by light rain

cascading down verdant leaves

where i lie open welcoming

refreshing dampness plopping

on my glasses. a toadstool blooms

nearby like an old friend,

i thought him lonely but now

know him to be one of many

spreading out like us, connected

yet ourselves.

heady forest aromas climb

my nostrils integrating life

and death and decay and growth

where my fungal friend lives,

itself, umbrella atop a thin

stem threads ripped

if i make one wrong move,

watching instead it thrives

how light, fleshy toadstool

blossoming in moonlight—

springy flesh integral fruiting

body of fungal life ejecting

spores—knowing more than

the sum of their parts

honestly, sometimes i dream

being a forest floor mushroom

damp among trees dripping

spanish moss soft and spongy—

easy to break impossible to kill;

mycelial communication survives

thrives speeding fungal thought

quicker denial of lies

running around the world.

held breaths saving

my fragile friend losing

fungal integrity threads

pulling snapping ripping

away, but i needn’t worry

alone in this forest, connections

spill out from me though

i may break, snapped in half

island seeming, miles from nowhere

mycelial threads remain.