Hoping in vain for the sun to quickly dry
wings
not ready for flight
while the storm clouds
lean to the earth in their heaviness.
It was a mistake to choose
this very place
to hope.
Mothness senses that and
flutters wings to hasten the process.
Slightly, intermittently at first
to avoid detection.
but the dog was watching.
The playful attack I averted would have been fatal.
Moth only knew the air and earth shook
and somehow through some unfathomable connection
there was time
to risk
frantic fluttering.
Success this time.
Safer harbor from the storm.
I was left wondering
In the far long reaching secret society of Mothdom
will they call her crazy, or give her a feast day?


Comments: 13
Years ago, my father used to watch the woolly bear caterpillars to see what sort of winter was ahead -- something about the amount of brown or black in their coloring was supposed to be a clue. One year, because of all the attention these marvelous caterpillars got, I decided to see what became of them, and I brought an egg carton with five or six woolly bear caterpillars and a supply of leaves to our science class. They became the prettiest gold-winged moths! I watch for them, now.
But then again, your moth friend seems to have been caught unaware rather than gone looking for trouble, which is a state most of us get caught in all too frequently. We weren't trying to be risky, the damned storm came up out of nowhere! Which makes me wonder if we can all become accidental saints.