Fragile Moth

To the harvest moon, you say your prayers.

Asking why man made lights shine there.

They are so beautiful and inviting.

But ultimately dangerous and frightening.

Oh, fragile moth, do not fear autumn's night.

When you're in a moonlit flight.

To the blinking stars, you make your wishes.

You feel heat but you dare not risk it.

It soothes your wings in the cool breeze.

But second thoughts urge you to leave.

Oh, fragile moth, do not cry for misplaced glow.

You will make it because the stars will show.

To my eyes, you represent all that you search.

As you settle on the trunk of the silver birch.

The sky blows with a lung filled gust.

Scattering your delicate body into dust.

Oh, fragile moth, you inspired the moon.

And set the stars to a lullaby tune.