Spore

In the hush of moss‑clad wood, a single spore awakes,
Drifting on a breath of damp, it seeks the shadowed loam.
Tiny, yet it holds the promise of a hidden kingdom,
Where mycelium threads like silent veins beneath the leaf.

Each grain a traveller, a whisper of future fungi,
Waiting for the rain’s soft kiss to burst forth in colour.
In the quiet cycle of decay and rebirth,
The humble spore writes earth’s ever‑lasting story.