Carol Rumens, 22 May 1986
We broke slim boughs to stir and sift the leaf-mould.
I was befogged by earth-colours, my earthbound sight an Axminster
of swirling oak-leaves, beech-mast, till I had trimmed my focus
to detail, even acquired a touch of your magical foresight.
Seroyeshky, you called them: mushrooms for eating raw,
but better cooked, you said, in spite of the nickname.
Some were pale red, some amber; the slugs...