A lady I worked with tried to kill a moth and I stopped her, scooping the tiny thing into my hand gently and taking it outside. "It's just a moth," she said, with confusion in her eyes. I frowned at her; Moths had always been my favorite insect, with their fuzzy bodies and whimsical features. My automatic response was, "Moths are just butterflies of the night." I wrote a very short poem about it in my head that day and I thought I would share it on here.
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Moths are just butterflies of the night;
dancing free on effervescent starlight.
Fuzzy and warm, purring,
With a fairy's dust upon their wings.
Moths kiss your nose, and they give you sweet dreams.
Thanks all,
Ashley D. Nichols
The Nocturnal Bablatrice
