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Off the forest trails, where bushwhackers stray,  
Restless Mary ducked branches, left her screen that day.  
She was startled when a Horned owl flew
A dragonfly landed on her sleeve; its color was blue.

Braided ivy above made darkness at noon
She tripped over a log, saw a glowing mushroom,  
It lit up her face, its color was blue,  
In that quiet place, her wonder grew

She knelt down low, with eyes open wide,  
It looked other-worldly by the mossy rock side.
Lit up with an ethereal light,  
Not like her tablet, more like elvish night.

She told her dad it was magic; he looked it up on his phone
Then he took on a pedagogical tone
"Just a chemical reaction, many mushrooms glow"
But Mary preferred magic, didn't want to know.

"It's OK" said her dad, "science is magic too:
"But mushrooms glow green, they never glow blue
"There must be a reason, maybe slanted light by a tree"
Mary said, "I'm ten years old, and I trust what I see."

"I'll go with you" said her dad, "let's explore:
"We'll search your path on the forest floor."
Mary said "not sure I can retrace
"I don't know what I did, how I got to that place."

They walked anyway, it was a beautiful day
They trod pine needle carpets, pushed ivy away
They got to a clearing with shade all around
Sat on a log, Mary felt content, Dad unwound.

He felt a lift to his attitude
His troubles let go, his spirit renewed. 
He brushed a leaf and a drooping fern frond.  
Parent and child felt a stronger bond.

Was it real? who can be sure?
But the little girl knows both moments felt pure
She'll always remember brown soil among pine
And that glowing blue mushroom, a light almost divine.

Maybe somewhere a new species caused by random mutation
Was added to the variety of all creation.
Science seemed magic, and nature was art
Its moments like this that engrave in our heart.
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