After the night rain, shy chanterelles
in the shadow of pines.
in the shadow of pines.
We wandered into the woods with our baskets empty.
Stepped through crowds of wet berry bushes,
over moss that gave under our boots.
Stepped through crowds of wet berry bushes,
over moss that gave under our boots.
Like walking on water.
I wanted the word for moss.
Samanos, you said.
Samanos, you said.
I wanted the word for fox. Lapė.
We saw our first chanterelle
bowing its tender, saffron head
beside a softening log.
bowing its tender, saffron head
beside a softening log.
Voveraitė, you said,
cutting its stalk with your knife.
cutting its stalk with your knife.
All day we walked and gathered
mushrooms and words from the forest –
mushrooms and words from the forest –
blueberry
mėlynių
pinepušis
birchberžas
until we grew hungry
and our baskets full.
and our baskets full.
That night we cooked our finds
in garlic, butter and wine.
We ate them in the dark,
listening with our mouths
to the land’s soft utterance.
in garlic, butter and wine.
We ate them in the dark,
listening with our mouths
to the land’s soft utterance.
In this way I learned, slowly,
to speak your tongue.
to speak your tongue.
