The Royal Ascot Mushroom
Beneath the woodland canopy, nature hosts her own high-society parade. “The Royal Ascot Mushroom” captures a mushroom’s elegant, hat-like form — poised as if ready for the races, brimming with quiet wit and woodland grace.
Beneath the trees, in shaded air,
A mushroom lifts its brim with flair —
A woodland hat of silken grace,
With curves no fashion could replace.
No feathers, lace, or jeweled plume.
Yet elegance defines its bloom;
As though some lady, poised and fine,
Had left her Ascot hat behind.
She stood there proud, with her chin held high.
A tilt that whispered, “Oh, do not pry.”
Her cap, a masterpiece of flair,
Could shame the finest hats to wear.
“Was this,” I mused, “some duchess fair,
Who lost her bonnet unaware?”
For surely no mere fungal thing
Could sport such style — or such a swing.
A passing beetle tipped his hat.
A slug admired, “Imagine that!”
The moss applauded, soft and green,
At nature’s haute couture unseen.
No judge, no race, no trumpet’s cry,
Yet all the woodland gathered nigh;
They’d never seen such grace in gloom —
The toast of Ascot: one mushroom.
And when the raindrops graced her brim,
They glittered like a jeweled rim;
She bowed, demure, in the misty air —
A lady’s farewell, chic and rare.
So next time you walk through woodland shade,
Remember how this hat was made —
By time, by rain, by nature’s tune:
The elegant Royal Ascot Mushroom.