There’s a part of me hiding under the fallen leaves, my roots entangled to the earth but the curiosity of change sends thrills thru my fruiting body. This is the land of our Mother, unfamiliar, yet a gentle remembrance of what it is to be free and interconnected to the divine. A breeze drifts through the cedar wood and maples, sending vibrancy to the forest floor. Nutrition that will stabilize my growth once filled with the vigor of life now crisping to it’s own bittersweet death, a returning inward. I grapple with the snails and slugs as they feast from my caps. Remembering that everyone deserves to eat, I keep fruiting from the mycelium beneath the feet of man. They try to take, to cut, to treat, to destroy the nature of my natural order. What they do not know is that I am intertwined with the ancients of our forest. Sending signals of warning thru the ground they walk on. Grow, bloom, breathe, be free, before they try to take it away from you. Return to your roots when the cold air returns and preserve the lessons you have learned.
WARRIOR WOMAN 