Slime Molds and Various Stages of Rot
A sonnet

Slime molds and various stages of rot. “Disgusting, this stuff is so gross,” she said. Those things are more like us than was once thought. “Just look, you old pretentious fool, It’s dead.”
This stump that fell over lies and rots some more, That tree that once stood here out on the lawn. A decomposing carcass on the floor Creating worlds in which slimes will live on.
These one-cell creatures with a tiny soul Found slowly chasing food on this old stump. They gather, forming fruiting, smarter whole, It’s, out of many, one, much stronger clump.
“As long as they stay on this rotting log.” “I guess they can stay,” went the dialogue.
Thank you, Denise Larkin and The Lark for publishing my sonnet. Thank you readers for visiting today.
