Moths Poem by Joseph Enright

On a peaceful summer midnight,
Under a moonlit sky,
I stand beneath a street lamp
As moths go flying by.
I seem to hear in the stillness,
The fluttering of their wings,
As if a magnet invisible,
Collected all flying little things

Around the lamplight they gather,
And do their strange little dance,
Eyes aglow in the lamplight,
Unblinking, as if in a trance.

And as the nightime fades away,
To greet again another day,
My winged adncers soon take flight,
To return perhaps?
Tomorrow night?

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