On the surface, the poem is about a bunch of mushrooms quietly growing in a nighttime forest. They poke their heads from the leafy, pine-needled forest floor and eventually sprout from the cracks in a city sidewalk. If you dig a little deeper, though, you'll find that the poem is a big whoppin' extended metaphor. The mushrooms seem to represent an oppressed population—most likely women—who are mounting a quiet revolution. At the end of the poem, we're told that, by morning, they'll have the respect they deserve.