A moth sits, bathing in the dark, on a piece of wood. He will not be there for long...
Moth sits, bathing in the dark,
on his column of wood that has shed its bark
He is alert and deeply aware
antennae pointed light-wards, navigation for the air
He knows he will soon vacate his perch,
an oasis of relief from his endless search
Pollination remains his essential quest
though nectar-sipping does require a rest
The post beneath him is polished and smooth
granting him comfort when his wings won't move
Big round rails are useful in this scene
for the moth to sit upon in between.
To him, the structure is a bee-hee-moth,
a pillar of strength for his wings-like-cloth
It is for him such a comfortable couch,
but for human carvers work allows no slouch
A raggedy stripe runs down his wing,
the colour of chalk on a nocturnal thing
The chalk-wing blackboard's chiaroscuro ground
provides shadow-light as a silent sound
The frame of wood makes for intricate art
but Nature reminds humans, "we are not apart"
A faint trace of rings is written on the wood
the place where the tree's Being has patiently stood
Moth sits, bathing in the night
a small still figure illumined by the light
Soon, he too, will leave his earthly post
celestial orientation for a tiny winged ghost.