Poem for the Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity

Mushrooms

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.

Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)

Mushrooms and toadstools pop up everywhere in September, but it takes a poet to help
us see OURSELVES as MUSHROOMS! I’m told that there is a huge network of fungus
under our feet that’s essential to the well being of the soil. These small, modest beings,
Sylvia Plath reminds us, are the meek who will inherit the earth. “Meek” sounds a bit
feeble but the deeper meaning of “meek” is gentle, humble, courteous, unassuming. If
we are like that we will know our place. We’ll know where we fit in to the whole scheme
of things and we’ll be a blessing as well as blessed. It gives me hope and plenty to pray
about.
Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. Matthew 5:5

Tina Lamb