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Image by Alla Kemelmakher

The Luna Moth

pearl-white body, pale green wings
edged with morning-glory lilac.

No mouth to sip nectar,
no stomach to get the butterflies.
Wings wide as a hand, delicate
as the sheen of silk tissue, unfold
in the shape of a sycamore seed,
twist, rotate, escape a bat,

for him
to then only live for a week.

Bewitched by a molecule of pheromone
from a ladybug three kilometres away,
the insect smells at the top of his head
when passion is in the air,

finds the love of his life,
locks in deep embrace
with a soul mate,

only then for them to die.

Lost Sparrow

They say nobody noticed.
He’d been left by the road
outside the house
with the broken roof.

The ginger cat who danced in a tree
when they flew except one
in the late autumn sun
to gorge on the seed
in the stubble of a field.

Now, when they dine,
they chat to each other,
sweep an arc all together
when a small breeze
blows a little over their backs.

There they are again,
gathered to remember
under a row of willows.
Eyes blurred by
a sudden spatter of rain, by the
dim light of dusk drawing near,
some other thing.

Doryn Herbst, a former water industry scientist working in Wales now living in Germany. Her writing considers the natural world and themes which address social issues.

Poetry in print and online, including: The Storms, Green Ink Poetry, Ink Sweat & Tears, Osmosis. She is a reviewer at Consilience.

1 Comment

  1. Anonymous

    Poetry is such a wonderful way of learning thank you…


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