I Wish to Chat to A Mushroom

 

I wish to chat to a mushroom,

To tell it all my woes,

I’d confide in its ancient wisdom,

And ask it what it knows.

But I fear it would not understand me,

Would gossip and tell of my fears,

Through its endless mycelium channels

That sprout from its mushroom toes.

I wish to chat to a mushroom,

I wish it would lend me its ears,

But when you confide in a toadstool

Who knows where your secret goes?

I suspect they are less dependable,

Than all the whisperin’ grass,

And their thoughts would be depressing,

And felt as a great morass,

Of damp and dark and breaking down

And a musty smell in the nose.

For although it’s a fruiting body,

It’s only the bit that shows,

And the rest of it’s complex and murky,

And it prattles away as it grows.