Mycelia
by Cynthia Bernard
Mycelia
Eucalyptus trees arrayed
in stark isolation —
mandated social distancing
to reduce fire danger.
A colony of fungi
work for wages around their roots,
taking their salary in carbohydrates,
captured sunlight.
The workers spin long threads,
mycelia, which connect to the fungi
of nearby trees and plants —
a cellular communication network.
How did it feel to the trees, then,
to have their neighbors
cut down, dug up, sliced,
and hauled away?
Was it like an amputation,
or like having a best friend
move far away
with no forwarding address?
Were they shocked?
Do they mourn?
Did they howl in outrage,
a silent mycelial scream?
Are they howling still?
(originally published in formidable women’s sanctuary, November 2022)