Beneath the canopy, where shadows play,
In whispers of the ancient woods, they rise,
Mushrooms, with caps of velvet and clay,
Secrets of the earth in their silent guise.

In twilight’s glow, their forms ignite,
A dance of colors in the dampened air,
Guardians of the secrets of the night,
Their quiet presence, a mystical affair.

Among the roots, where stories intertwine,
With stems so delicate, they softly speak,
Of rain and soil, of time’s gentle line,
In their humble forms, the strong and meek.

Oh, forest’s whisper, in mushrooms’ bloom,
A silent testament to nature’s art,
In every cap, a world does loom,
A silent echo of the earth’s heart.