I nearly sit on the yellow moth

speckled with gray

that rests on the patio chair.

Sadly, it crawls across the metal,

wobbling with its single wing.


Up close I see the dark spot

where the second wing once hung.


Oh you poor flightless soul.

No longer will you know the bliss

of fluttering away among the wisteria blossoms

or climbing as high as you please

into the azure sky.


I sense my own grounded flight

on this day when nervousness about travel

has clipped my wings.


The Beloved instructs us to flap

our little wing

while that great Master of flight

flaps as well.

And I see how I forgot

to let that Power guide and calm me.


I sit quietly and seek dharmic direction

about this little soul

and am moved to find a quiet corner

in the garden,

protected from wind and harsh sun.


Then I release it onto a pansy petal.

An hour later, hail and rain pound the garden

and at first I fear for the moth.


But then I see the perfection

in its life as it flutters to a close.


The next day it’s one with the plant;

a little piece of shimmery wing glistens

among the green and yellow.


I too have taken the most blissful of flights

with both wings flapping into the sky.

Discover more from Lesley S. King

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading