Climate and other outdoor factors converge and create a landscape where mushrooms rarely thrive. When they do, I’m always fascinated by the fungal structures that peek from the suburban landscape before shriveling up and disappearing again.

dormant spores
lurking
hiding
biding
hidden in cool crevices
desiccated
down among nooks of decay
undaunted by days of
dark
arid
chill
but a reprieve
water
rain
moisture
soaking the soil
lingering showers
thoroughly wetting
nooks and crevices
calling
waking
beckoning
caps to peek into the sun
a moment
a day
brief appearances
reminders that
dormant is not dead
only waiting for
chance opportunity
and spring rains.

– bardo

I am not a poet, but a friend has inspired me to read more of it and think more critically about its place in the constellation of my creative pursuits. Occasionally, I’d like to post a poem here when inspiration strikes.