Moth In The Dishwater
It lay in the dishpan,
There only minutes before it was found.
Bag for the garbage, the only thing handy,
I lifted it onto the only thing present.
Predictably stuck, I continued to try.
Paper towel – single ply –
Gently absorbing the water I could,
Watching the dampness be transferred and spread,
Lo! Here was movement: antennae and head.
A moth full of fortitude, patient and quiet;
Waiting, accepting whatever fate brought it.
It’s June and it’s summer. I opened the door,
Moth and yours truly keen for existence.
Stooping outside, nudging to grass straw;
First, to a spider web. That was an error.
Cheeky and rude to the spider in question
I transferred de-powered, de-powdered white wings
To a flower, now fond of the little white thing.
Checking its whereabouts each half an hour.
By some downright miracle, it’s shifted place.
How it survives is a matter of grace,
But it lives.
At the moment it lives.
Moth In The Dishwater 6.11.2011
Circling Round Nature; Birth, Death & In Between II;
Arlene Corwin
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