Moths Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
Moths
Their wings vibrate
like a dentist’s drill.
They come late
in the huge night and fill
our dreams with inscrutable
stares. They snug
into their shadows
which hug
them
like carnivorous flowers.
You don’t see them feed.
Yet they grow.
Nor bleed.
When crushed
they leave a slur of dust.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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5/28/2024 5:14:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
