Mushrooms Sing Like Seashells

I like rain. It cleanses, it cools and it brings mushrooms to life.

The mushrooms are bright or plain, big or tiny, reachable or far away, simple or fancy; they pop up from nowhere to everywhere. 

I read that a musician was threatened to be sued on behalf of the mushrooms for copyright infringement to the songs he had composed. This is of course absolutely ridiculous.

But mushrooms do sing and singing makes them always look lovely and pretty.

They sing like seashells. 

When I go up-close, I can hear the forest whispering in my ear.

Superman Gathers No Mushrooms

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. An extra millimeter a day leaves the other mushrooms behind. Persistence rules. 

Bit by bit and day by day, the drops of rain mark the stone.

Bit by bit and week by week, I shall collect enough mushrooms to make my webpage a mushroom garden. 

When a sea of talkative mushrooms meet up, how noisy but how unbelievable exciting it will be.

Just bit and bit, day by day, week by week and year by year, slow and steady.

Superman is just too fast for this. He is a rolling stone that rocks and rolls in the sky. 

Superman gathers no mushrooms.

Mushroom has a Small Win

Small wins make great presents.

Missus and I followed trail marks last Sunday to explore a new hiking trail. With guesses at many junctions over this an-hour-forty-five-minute journey, we managed to reach the peak with relief.

Three pieces of giant stones that were nicely stacked up are a fascinating eye-opener.

But the dialogue between a lonely mushroom and a naive plant is attractive.

"Join me as a mushroom?"

"Why?"

"Ever know this guy and Sallie?"

"No."

"Mushrooms are their topics."

"So?"

"They are then our topics."

Its small win in the making makes me nuts.

Micro Dreams

I am a daydreamer. I dream little dreams of the forest .

But I never expected but happened to find countless of micro dreams. They pop up close to the forest floor and blink like sparkling stars with fairy dust sound effect; they must be right at the tip of a wizard’s magic wand.

It is this magic the universe uses to make dreams come true. 

The mushrooms dreamed micro dreams:

"You sneezed hard the whole night."

"Wind brought rain. Rain soaked me in coldness."

"I could feel the earth shake while you were doing that."

"That's how bigger mushrooms help smaller mushrooms to mushroom."

Seventh Layer of Rainbow

Red is the colour of passion, and confusion that made me thinking both of these red mushrooms are same.

I am wrong the moment I start writing. Writing gets me right when my brain is greased.

Mind drilling further red becomes the colour of love, hungry lips, and a sudden halt in the midst of heavy traffic flow. Things happen fast. Red force closes all my irrelevances and day-dreams, and drives me back to the colours of weekday.

I have to cliff-climb from the "very blue" in order to reach the top layer of a rainbow.

By then red is the colour of Sunday, and also passion.