Rook The Mushroom

Picture Book Manuscript
by Dan Leonard
Approx. 190 words

 

After the harvest,
the garden grew quieter.

Not empty.
Just settled.

 

Stems bent.
Leaves loosened.

What had stood tall
returned to the ground.

 

Beneath it all,
the soil gathered what was left.

Soft things.
Old things.
Enough.

 

In that dark,
where endings collect,

something small

was already beginning.

 

Rook.

 

He did not push upward.
He did not stretch.

He listened
to what the ground was already holding.

 

Balance held.

A falling leaf

paused in the air.
And still—

the earth noticed
it was ready.

 

The garden slept.

Morning came.

Rook was there.

One moment—

Soil.

The next—

Rook.

 

He carried no color of his own.

Only the shade
of what had come before.

 

Scent lingered near him.

Deep.
Earth-low scent.

A reminder,
not an invitation.

 

Nearby, the Soil Keeper attended.

Her spade rested dull and brown,
its edge softened by time.

Nothing needed turning.

The soil finished gathering.

 

Rook did not stay long.

That was not his work.

 

He came

when the soil was ready.

Then returned.

When he returned to the soil,
the ground felt fuller.

As if something
had been understood.

Some companions arrive to grow.

Some arrive to return.

Both belong.