The mushrooms came up 
all at once, exuberance 
born of decay, hardwood roots 
of an absent tree easing into 
a new incarnation, unrecognizable, 
the moldering of a world turning, 
we breathe in the sweet scent of 
rot, damp and inescapable as 
one thing becomes another, 
it’s not been a year and still 
we barely remember the tree 
that stood there, barely recall 
there was ever a tree there at all.