Moth

The leaded window opened
to move the dancing candle flame
And the first Moths of summer
suicidal came.

And a new breeze chattered
in its May-bud tenderness ---
Sending water-lillies sailing
as she turned to get undressed.

And the long night awakened
and we soared on powdered wings ---
Circling our tomorrows
in the wary month of Spring.

Chasing shadows slipping
in a magic lantern slide ---
Creatures of the candle
on a night-light-ride.

Dipping and weaving --- flutter
through the golden needle's eye
in our haystack madness. Butterfly-stroking
on a Spring-tide high.

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At least I think it is a moth, too ugly to be a butterfly I think