O at the Edges

Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.

Moths

Posted on May 25, 2022 by robert okaji

Moths

Small moths stir
in the darkness.
I feel their

wings brush my
face, my hands,
remembering the cry

of something unseen.
It is windy
again this morning.

* * *

“Moths” first appeared here in July 2015.

10 thoughts on “Moths”

Jazz Jaeschke on May 25, 2022 at 8:59 am said:

Reading this after a night of whipping wind & rain that took out the power … I went outdoors just as it blew in – air truly charged, charging my curiosity, so many somethings unseen in the dark – the dark of immediate moment and the dark of blown-away memory. Reading this and pondering memories as moth wings that brush by, vanish. Yikes!

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- robert okaji on May 29, 2022 at 11:08 am said:
  
  I wish wind and rain could change our culture…
  
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Liz Gauffreau on May 25, 2022 at 9:07 am said:

A very evocative poem.

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- robert okaji on May 29, 2022 at 11:07 am said:
  
  Thanks, Liz.
  
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  - Liz Gauffreau on May 29, 2022 at 11:35 am said:
    
    You’re welcome, Robert.
    
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julydase on May 25, 2022 at 7:02 pm said:

I feel delicate wings against my skin, leaving behind a trace of powder…

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- robert okaji on May 29, 2022 at 11:07 am said:
  
  Then I have done my job! Thank you.
  
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  - julydase on May 29, 2022 at 11:26 am said:
    
    My pleasure reading. 🙂
    
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©Sara-Loretta Hardin on May 28, 2022 at 9:04 pm said:

This is an eerily intriguing poem.

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- robert okaji on May 29, 2022 at 11:05 am said:
  
  Thank you very much, Sara-Loretta.
  
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