The Humble Farmer

I am but a humble farmer

An accidental one at that, one may say

Of pastels and fuchsia fungi

Not a day passes me by that I swoon not

At your mesmerising champagne curves

Your delicate rosy gills seem to blush

As I pluck and tuck you in my quilted basket

I cannot help but admire from the corner of my eye

The way your salmon collar delicately curves around my fingertips

As I gather your friends by your side

I am reminded of a perfect line up of ballerinas in flamingo tutus

So often you are mistaken for a rare coral

A precious jewel from the shores of the Indian Ocean

I dare say my dear, you belong in Paris

Under the tenure of none other than Chef Passard

You may capture us all by your charming looks

But you ravish our taste buds with your soft pearlescent texture

You seal the deal

You are the Royal Flush

I am but a humble farmer

Of a rare and exquisite orchid like organism

A grand name you were given back in 1841

Pleurotus Djamor

But to me you are the pride of our collection

The queen

The magnificent Pink Oyster Mushroom.

By Beatrice Imbert