Mid jokes and jibes of thriving in the dark,
Beneath peat moss and soggy, brown terrain,
I rise near unperceived, yet here I be,
Surviving rapid spinners, I remain.
I’m often thought a nuisance causing dire
consequences, if ingested by mistake,
But you should know that I’m the harmless growth,
And you may reap my harvest (for your steak).
As you set me gently ‘top the stove
Before the bubbling butter coats my fronds,
You may pause to notice that I’m more
than spores collected from damp, soggy ponds.
Simplicity, complexly interlaced,
And when the light is right, I share my grace.