Friday, July 19, 2013

we shall by morning inherit the earth.


Mushrooms
by Sylvia Plath

Overnight, very 
Whitely, discreetly, 
Very quietly 

Our toes, our noses 
Take hold on the loam, 
Acquire the air. 

Nobody sees us, 
Stops us, betrays us; 
The small grains make room. 

Soft fists insist on 
Heaving the needles, 
The leafy bedding, 

Even the paving. 
Our hammers, our rams, 
Earless and eyeless, 

Perfectly voiceless, 
Widen the crannies, 
Shoulder through holes. We 

Diet on water, 
On crumbs of shadow, 
Bland-mannered, asking 

Little or nothing. 
So many of us! 
So many of us! 

We are shelves, we are 
Tables, we are meek, 
We are edible, 

Nudgers and shovers 
In spite of ourselves. 
Our kind multiplies: 

We shall by morning 
Inherit the earth. 
Our foot's in the door.




8 comments:

Kay L. Davies said...

I remember huge fungi growing on trees when I was a small child, and if anyone had shown me that last stanza, I'd have believed it.
Hope you are well.
Love, K

Nancy said...

Amazing shot of this tree. I don't know when I have seen trees covered with this much fungi...

Are you having a nice summer....?

S. Etole said...

Fascinating thought.

Becky Jerdee said...

Mushrooms, those little rascals! Surely, they will in inherit the earth!

Loree said...

In some ways, they look like butterflies with closed wings.

Tracy said...

Ah, Sylvia Path... great poem paired with a great photo image, Leslie! :o) The fungi look almost like trapped wings... Happy Week ((HUGS))

Jennifer Richardson said...

oh that poem.
oh my heart.
wow...thanks for sharing,
Jennifer

♥ w o o l f ♥ said...

i should read plath more.
i bl** should.
pardon my french, but that's the moood.
n♥
mood, thank you.