Lady Macbeth and a Luna Moth - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

Lady Macbeth and a Luna Moth

 

A luna moth is elegant in her green

Like Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth

Beautiful and yet somehow sinister

Those wing’ed eyes – they seem to look at us

 

Eyes

 

That measure us for a dagger or a cup

She clings to a lichened brick wall at night

Wings pulsing against that wall, waiting, waiting…

Suddenly wild flutterings as she flees into the dark!

 

Exit, pursued by a cat

The Luna Moth - poem

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Luna Moth

The moon does not in fact wax anything,
She does not wane; she simply ever-is;
She rules the softly-sung, soft-summer nights,
A willing queen, and willingly obeyed.
The luna moth, her winged votary,
Clings to indulgent oaks of their kindness,
Their moon-sent goddess from another world,
And strangely robed and crowned in lunar green,
Pheroming softly for some other moth
To come perform with her those rituals
Of love illogical, of sacrifice;
For all a luna moth can do is live
A summer week or so, but in those hours

She loves

In lunar beauty, strangely eternal
Who needs a dying luna moth?
                                                       We do.

The Luna Moth

Mack Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

The Luna Moth

The moon does not in fact wax anything,

She does not wane; she simply ever-is;
She rules the softly-sung, soft-summer nights,
A willing queen, and willingly obeyed.
The luna moth, her winged votary,
Clings to indulgent oaks of their kindness,
Their moon-sent goddess from another world,
And strangely robed and crowned in lunar green,
Pheroming softly for some other moth
To come perform with her those rituals
Of love illogical, of sacrifice;
For all a luna moth can do is live
A summer week or so, but in those hours

She loves

In lunar beauty, strangely eternal
Who needs a dying luna moth?

                                                We do.