The forest floor —
strewn with damp leaf litter
slightly twisted twin-pronged needles.
Fungal fruiting bodies,
caps sprinkled with grit,
stand sentry over the rich, black loam.
The musty smell at life & death’s edge
reigns subtly supreme.
We call it decay, and think it a death stench,
but that ground echoes the ouroboros —
the mythical serpent consuming it’s own tail —
eater and eaten are one —
life and death are thusly intertwined in that dark soil.