Luna Moth

Out my window this morning,

clutching lightly to the screen,

suspended there really, was a Luna moth

as big as my palm, his great green wings,

pale and edged in black, spread wide,

reflecting the morning sun illuminating him,

and pulled down into a narrow tail,

his shape distinctive, as if pinned there

by an amateur lepidopterist to display

for me, this morning rising, this visitor

drawn to my night light dimly burning

while I slept, a specter leaving unseen

as I busied myself in the heat of the day,

the green world we live in taking us in,

each in his own place, drawn to different lights,

fulfilling a purpose, illuminated, fulfilled.