Written 6th August, 2026 for Stars or Fireflies Fibonacci Poetry Contest sponsored by Hiya Sharma
Glass, traps one spark in the ferns, spirits of the dead, tethered above the wet creek bed, guiding the departed through the mangrove roots tonight. They hover in the liminal space between the living and the silent wet bush graves. We did not know we caught a wandering spirit alive, glowing with the pale green light of someone trying to find their way through the gully. Unscrewing the cold rim of the glass I watched the little ancestor crawl out across my thumb to hesitate a moment in the damp night air before heading upwards into the canopy towards the guiding southern stars.
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