About Truffles Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

They say the woods of Alba
Grow secrets in their soil
And Perigord's fair regions
Hide rarest mushroom spoils

The truffle may be ugly
Dug up by dogs and pigs
But most agree its flavor
Is well worth humble digs

The oak tree seems to foster
This underground delight
Yet even seasoned woodsmen
Are clueless to this rite

Those of the finest learning
And gourmand savoir-faire
Have likened truffles' magic
To youth and love affairs

They also find its impact
Brings thoughts of fresh plowed earth
Fine, gentle rains in autumn
And spring's green, tender birth

So why should I, a woman
Of lowly mien and ways
Trust an old man in hospice
Recounting long gone days

Nobody would believe this
Yet father said I found
When still a tiny toddler
Those lumps in Kehra's ground.