Marietta McGregor
Spring Thaw
Slime molds need special conditions for life—moist, cool and gloomy. Some believe these cells, neither animal nor plant, can think. For hours the woman lies on her belly, the cold press-back of earth unnoticed, recording details of lives stranger than her own. Through the camera’s viewfinder, two orange splotches like spilled acrylic paint creep slowly along the sassafras log. At last, they coalesce. She likes to imagine their joy at finding each other, two unlikely lovers in a vast rain forest. Do the jelly blobs sense somebody watching them blossom into club-like fruiting bodies then spores which will hitch a ride on a wombat to another part of the wilderness? When orange segues to umber, the woman packs her gear and moves on.
this glue holding us together sprouted grass moon
About the Author
Marietta McGregor is a former science writer from Canberra, Australia. Her haiku, haibun and haiga appear in international journals and anthologies and on Japanese television.