Autumn colors are arriving in northern Illinois. But hiking with a dog gets me looking at the ground a bit more, and I found some color in the decaying wood.
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.
. . . .
From Sylvia Plath, Mushrooms
This scene in Illinois Canyon seemed to show the transition from summer to fall occurring right there.
Illinois Canyon, Starved Rock State Park
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
. . . .
Looking up, the colors were definitely showing their autumn flair.
The perspective from a mushroom’s view?
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:
. . . .
I didn’t try any of these, so don’t blame them. But one lit up tree in the forest inspired me. Some zooming in with the lens on long exposures and tilting the camera led to some fun.
Sweeping up
Zooming out
Zooming and tilting
Walk with Renoir
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
Sylvia Plath, Mushrooms