It is March and the very first signs of spring are starting to appear, the smell of spring thaw in the air, the first Robins on the yard, crocus and daffodils starting to poke out, maple leaf buds are starting to swell; everything is starting. One of the often missed beauties of spring is British Soldier Moss, a beautiful inch high fungus found on decaying materials on the forest floor, recognized by its brilliant red tip. The first time I saw it as a young child, it grabbed in my attention because it so strongly contrasted the drab of winter. Some 20 years later I celebrated the occasion with this poem.
British Soldier Moss 3-14-1969
The icy grip of northern blasts
The March wind slowly lifts,
Bare ground was showing up in spots
Between the melting drifts.
The slanting lingering evening rays
Had opened up the meadows,
Red buds appeared on maple crowns,
Their husks on lingering snows.
An ancient rain-washed broken trunk
Lay drying in the sun,
I stooped to find a lichen moss,
Its kingdom here begun.
At first I hardly saw the growth,
But leaning close I spied
Like tiny forest on mountain slopes,
Thick treetops scarlet dyed.
Through bleak and bare, broke wintered world
Thought too then thawed in me,
To treat the eye and thrill the soul
Such beauty loves to be.
Comments