oyster mushrooms
protruded like ribs
from the soggy wood
what I understood about the mycelium
was it must devour most of the wood
before the mushrooms, plump
with medicinal value, will flower --
before the bulbous heads, soft as thumbs
will nudge into the world
but I wondered how much more
this raven knew than I did
I watched it cock its head to the side, clap its beak
toward the mushrooms
then throw its body into the fog
suddenly a wing of heat opened in my chest
and I could see the world
through the black mirrors of its eyes
but only for a moment
before I snapped back
into my own body
where I stood in the cold
studying the mushrooms for myself
with an armload of kindling
outside the cabin door