Gold-tinged heads break out
through summer earth, cold again —
meals for winter deer.

The red-shelled bolete,
shy in the warm August grass,
casts its own shadow.

My dog chose this path,
with surprise mushrooms growing
in a hollow tree.

The bright beginning
bursts out of the dead tree,
now alive again.

Like a swimming fish—
the purple-toothed polypore,
in the forest’s depths.

The tender life of
a forest mushroom, or an
October flower.

In this still forest,
we listen to the river,
my dog smiles and walks.

Blooming on a log
just off the path we walk,
among ferns and sunlight.

Blown down in the storm,
five months ago orioles
nested and sang here.

In the cool, deep woods,
ruffled around a tree stump,
beauty of this world.

Mutual flourishing—
coral mushroom’s crowns and arms,
growing in the dark.

The gilled, gilded world,
decorated with wisdom—
beauty overlooked.

Like the Milky Way,
like a curled listening ear,
this blue turkey tail.

I am the new bloom,
beautiful birch on the ground,
I embrace with love.

Spring mushroom blooming,
the woods wet with a day's rain,
mysterious life.