Beneath the canopy where whispers weave,
Mushrooms dance in silent, shadowed eve.
Caps of crimson, gold, and pearly white,
Secrets bloom in the gentle moonlight.

Among the moss and ancient trees,
Their stories drift with the midnight breeze.
Silent sentinels of the forest floor,
They guard the tales of times before.

Enigmatic shapes in twilight’s hold,
Nature’s wonders quietly unfold.
In circles they gather, a mystic array,
Echoes of magic in their silent display.

As morning breaks with a gentle sigh,
Mushrooms fade beneath the sky.
Yet in their fleeting, midnight dance,
They leave us dreaming, in a trance.