Found some poems online about hunting morels. Delightful reads...

It was a magic day in early May,
when Grandpa did arrive to say,
"It's time to hunt
for mushrooms."

With special sticks and sacks in hand
we hunted, searched, and scoured the land,
all for the love
of mushrooms.

We felt the prick of many a rose
as we traversed the path he chose,
in the quest for the
mightiest mushrooms.

We learned of plants and birds and trees
while we crawled around on hands and knees
looking for the
elusive mushrooms.

Oh, Grandpa dear, you are the one
who taught us how to have such fun
while harvesting
those mushrooms.

So this year, remember, in early May,
we will reserve a special day
for us all to look and laugh
and play............

and maybe even find
some mushrooms.


Here's another entitled "Morel Values"

I'll share with you a secret,
If you promise not to tell.
About a tasty mushroom,
It's known as the Morel.


Some people plan all winter,
It's why they wait for spring.
To go afield out searching,
For that delightful little thing.


When lilacs have turned purple,
And about to go to bloom,
It's time to be out looking
for your favorite mushroom.


You'll be puting up with woodticks,
And nettle weed that stings.
But I guess it's all quite worth it,
For all the joy it brings.


When you bring this your treasure,
That a hat would barely fill,
But will make one meal so special,
For this an annual thrill.


Some fry them up in butter,
Or put them in a stew.
You can dice them up for meatloaf,
I guess it's up to you.


So if you find yourself a spot,
Where the tasty mushrooms sprout,
You dare not breath a word of it,
That's what it's all about.


Cause if you share it with a friend,
Though sworn to secrecy,
Next year you'll go back to your spot,
And there your friend will be!