Poem – By their fruits

By their fruits


My tribe are the hidden ones

The underground breakers down

Of last season’s discard.

The nitrogen magicians

Enabling life in many forms.

Orchid to oak

We are soil-lace

Encouraging leaf and flower.

See me briefly

Let me intrude a fruiting body

Into airy upper realms

Shiny red cap, rare green,

Spotted fairy fly agaric

Generously capped wands

To weave enchantment

Nourish or poison.

A moment of glory.

My true work is underground

In the roots and beginnings

In decay and endings

In secret.

Earth dreaming.

About Nimue Brown

Druid, author, dreamer, folk enthusiast, parent, polyamourous animist, ant-fash, anti-capitalist, bisexual steampunk. Drinker of coffee, maker of puddings. Exploring life as a Pagan, seeking good and meaningful ways to be, struggling with mental health issues and worried about many things. View all posts by Nimue Brown

8 responses to “Poem – By their fruits

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