In vain I searched for morels knowing
nothing, a large sack slung across my chest
large enough to carry more mushrooms
than likely exist in this entire county.
Found instead two small clutches
of Dutchmen’s breeches so darling
looking just so like tiny white pantaloons
hung on a line to dry puffed out by a spring breeze.
And a pair of mallards on the creek
husband and wife as is the way of
mallards enjoying (one can only hope)
the quiet wet day.
Geese flew over honking.
Dogs chomped on dripping grass.
And I? I drank up the drizzly
romantic morning despite my large
empty sack.
