Mother Mind

Your greatest grandparents didn’t think,
Likely, waking up in their shelters
And gathering at the hearth to grumble

A little at each other, maybe discuss
The day’s plans or last night’s dreams,
That they were plugging into mother mind,

But it had already started working by then.
Face to face with individual human bodies,
It’s easy to think of them as themselves,

Distinct, their words their own, their habits
And behaviors belonging to those persons,
But no language is the speaker’s alone,

No skills, no ways of doing things, no
Plans for today, descriptions of dreams.
Your greatest grandparents collectively

Already tended a carefully shared fungus
Of mind. Those early patches were small,
But the mycelia threaded and connected,

And now, you may wake up never so alone
In a honeycombed tower, an empty home,
But you plug right back into mother mind.