Heirloom Night Dance
Home coming long after the street is lit,
Up stairs climbing tipsy from Saturday night.
A flutter on the still air, a flutter.
Be it bat, or lunar moth?
No, brown dances over the tomato patch.
Flutter, flutter, dance, flutter, flutter…
So large, bathed in Mercury’s light a coat of brown.
Be you friend or foe over that heirloom patch?
I know who you are, Hornworm Momma!
Should be riled or incensed, but no.
Glad moth has come to the urban patch.
Must be kind, new plants just for thy grubs.
Will pick them, save them, and nurture the spawn.
Might sequester them to the city’s secret gardens,
Between the masses of baked red canyons.
Thanks for the dance under the moonlight,
Heartless enemies we are not, life be gets life.