Claudio Salvucci: Behold the Lowly Mushroom

Behold the Lowly Mushroom

Behold the lowly mushroom, how dark does not deter her,
How well she braves the damp of caves; how fickle light won’t stir her.
Her fellows in the garden daily crowd towards the rays
of sun the weeds and grasses need, who feed upon this craze.

The mushroom does not grow to top the crown of mighty oak.
The mushroom will not dress the hills in acres of her cloak.
Few transients will stoop to note the mushroom growing there.
Few noses will delight in taking in her earthy air.

Ask the man who brags of flowers, ask him to explore:
if he would deign to just explain what is the mushroom for.
Doubtlessly his eyes will glaze and an answer be evaded,
For what worth can there be in things that grow so darkly shaded?

The mushroom veils her visage from the glare of light and sun,
but clings to earth, and watered well, is a contented one.

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