Actias Luna

She spreads her wings, the luna moth, sea-foam green
lit-through by the sinking sun on that evening on the path
below the willow. You take my hand, your thumb stroking
my palm to the slow beat of her wings. Her fuzzy antennae flutter
in the evening air. Almost newborn, her wings, almost dry.
Soon she will fly into the night and release pheromones
near midnight, attract her mate. Oh…her life will be short,
maybe five nights to spread her wings under the moon’s light.
In these few nights, she is a goddess, a creature
to take your breath away, an ordinary silk moth,
Luna. But unlike the moon, her cycle passes so very, very
fast after she unfolds from the chrysalis. With the rising
of the waning crescent, she lifts up and up, leaving us
earthbound, the enchantment opening the night.