I first read Sylvia Plath’s poem: Mushrooms
In a Thursday morning literature class
Sometime in year 10.
It stayed with me through recess
Through period 3 and 4 .
And 5 and 6.
In that chilly Autaumn my teenage mind wondered about
Fragility and strength.
The futility of determination.
Its beauty, regardless.
Then on the walk to the after school life drawing class,
Through severe and cobbled blue stone lane to the studio a block from the school.
I saw the mushrooms.
Saw them squeeze through invisible cracks in 100 year old roads.
They had found and exploited a slither of a path.
They had risen,
Bent to peer
Bent to touch their soft fronds.
whilst on the subject of mushrooms
check out Jasmine Jean’s Art