Luna Moth

Flying through the park one evening,
The weary, wary moth of May
Settled near the scholar's lantern
Took a hesitant step and said,

"It's not that I am unafraid.
I have some fuzzy commonsense
And I can feel flames might be bad.
I'm dim and dull. In my defense

However, I don't live for sun,
And my antennas have been tuned,
Inexactly, over eons
By desperate love of the moon.

I'm not at all fond of candles.
Those infernal things frighten me.
I want to be brighter. I can't
Surrender drab consistency.

But, unlike you, I only make
My moon-hungry, colorless flights
Toward the hot-headed mistake
Once." The scholar nodded. "Or twice."