I could smell the maple trees as my feet padded through the moss and ferns,

The hunt for the wild chanterelle mushroom was ensuing,

My mushroom knife and basket were ready for the spoils,

Though I do not like mushrooms for eating,

The thrill of the hunt excites me,

Like childlike abandon I come across a plethora of chanterelles-yellowish-orange and oh so radiant!

What a delight it is to hunt such a glorious mushroom,

I love the way the hunt speaks to my soul-a love affair forevermore.