On a bed of moss,

a firefly wakes

to the orchestral

tuning of nightfall.

Tasting the air

with chemoreceptors,

they unfold wings

over forest floor,

a bioluminescent

drop of dew trickling

over shed leaves.

Through a red torii gate,

the firefly drifts

toward a towering cedar tree

that has seen a thousand years,

to the decaying wood at its base,

drawn by the blue-green glow

of a quiet aurora borealis

emitted by ghostly fungi.

Somewhere in the forest,

a nine-tailed fox sighs

and puts out another fire.

lae astra is an artist who calls Tokyo home. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in fifth wheel press, tiny wren lit, Strange Horizons, Bullshit Lit, and elsewhere. Find them at laeastra.com/links.