snow lies heavy
across the high country
spruce branches dip and
the power lines snap
I put a match to
a candle I haven’t burned
for many months
in the pool beside the wick
is last summer’s moth
released from the hardened wax
like a fossil in reverse
its unsinged wings
and brushy antennae still
as perfect as the night
it flew too near the sun
as the snow continues I ask
questions vital to survival
of the body and the soul:
how long will the batteries last?
how long will the house stay warm?
how is it that the moth
was not consumed?
I wrote this poem during a particularly big storm in the Alberta foothills. It's a cool memory on a muggy Ontario day.
Poem by D. Godin from World of Wonders
Photo from granitegrok.com
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