mushroom foraging is like fishing the spate
ephemerally pulsed
through a protracted season
the catch dictated by
the amount of water in the system
As children we learned to expect stocked rainbows
to be hiding under every rock
in the guts of the pools and the log jams especially
probing every pocket
twice
with wriggling night crawlers
that still flexed their peristaltic muscles
as if again being captured
during the last night's flashlight raid
sometimes a brook trout
a native
a red meat fish
but always the limit once located
As an old timer I expect the black trumpets
to be emerging from every patch of moss
in the heart of the mixed hard wood forest and
the darkest gloams especially
scanning every piece of decaying ground
twice and more
sometime a bolete
an edilus
a king
occasionally a butt load if located
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