Chad Otte

Morels - Poem by Chad Otte

To pursue this fine scrap
Is great fun
Up and down the hills
I must run
For to catch a glimpse of
The yellow or black
Thrusting up from the earth
I must attack
To fill my bag
Is my only goal
From this bush
To that tree
I dither around
Cause summer will come
And they will return to the ground.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, January 28, 2011

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