“It is once again that time of the year, to go out there, into the wilderness, to check out the bounty and do the harvest of it all” Gun Roswell

Mushy Mushroomy

The daily trip around the familiar park
Usually the hight light of the very day
As was the quick dash to the local supermarket
To pick up some goodies for the evening fest

So, walking the usual route around the moat
No, I wasn’t looking for any kind of boat
Just taking a stroll in the afternoon’s warming sun
Because that is the most of my daily doze of fun

Strolling along, humming off key some old song
Which I had heard, apparently years go, or so
But who is counting anyway, as getting younger, well
Yeah, that is still a thing for us old folks to slay

But, as always, I digress, and never the less
What did I spot on the path side, mouth agape open wide
As so big was my surprise, of finding these big mushy things
Oddly shaped and slimy looking nature created beings

And then, what do I do? 

Stopping right there in my very steps
Looking around like a psycho for the Feds
Then quickly as there is no one around
I dive down to the very slippery ground
Pull out a small bag I keep in my pocket
And start grabbing the mushy things out of their sockets
Soon enough the bag is completely full
I get up and start running like a fool

Because, oh boy! oh boy!
Today, thar will be served mushroom soup!