On a mossy emerald substrate,
Sprinkled by the ceaseless rain,
Mushrooms grow in the forest states
With the advent of autumn reign.
The fleeting feast rejoices wildly
On a tablecloth of withered grass,
A mushroom picker wanders idly
Leaving behind voracious worms.
Even if only two sunny days in tandem
The wind blows, knocking out tears,
I sing the mushroom festival anthem
& call it short time paradise unawares.