Winged Creature

copyright © July 30,2016

by P. R. Lowe

 

Last night as I sat at my desk, I heard a rapping at my window, as if someone gently tapping (Poe’s poem comes to mind). What in the world? It was late.

I arose and threw back the curtain… fast… in an attempt to catch a vision of my late night visitor before it vanished into thin air (as they often do here). There, face to my face, was a gi-normous Luna Moth. The poor dear was beating its velvet-ribbed chest upon the pane. It seemed to glow, effulgent in all its pitch black surroundings; the darkness that lay all the way to the lake and beyond to the mountains; the darkness that oozed over the woodland floor, creeping into every nook and cranny of every tree and rock…the darkness draping itself, like cling wrap, to the waters and streams.

For just a nano-second I was sucked out there with that moth…and for just a hair of a hair of a second I felt what s/he must be feeling…. The light! Oh god, the light! And the noise! That unholy droning! Just as quickly I was back inside with the curtain shut. I just stood there, a small shiver coursing my body… a part of me feeling guilty, desiring to cut off all the lights and go into the night…. to make myself small and hitch a ride with that grand and beautiful flying creature…a wee dragon…yes, s/he reminded me of a dragon…a dragon of the night…and like the larger version of that species…a rare and wondrous thing to behold in this day and age. (well, in any age, really) My guilt turned into gladness that this place is still graced with their presence (dragons  and luna moths!). Maybe I will switch to candles or oil lamps, whenever that incessant urge to do, do, do keeps me up into the wee hours. Or better yet, maybe I will sit on the porch in darkness and wait for it to return.

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