Blue Mushroom

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.