Cocoon

Cocoon I found a moth cocoon of silken thread --A substance indestructable they say-- Almost unseen–his earthbrown, narrow bed Where, patiently, the silent captive lay. I thought to put him in a jar, to own, To watch, to cherish his emerging form, But No! The case was broken, he had flown! His empty, useless house no longer warm, He flew in joy beneath the spring-blue sky, Caressing gardens with his sun-bright wings. He seemed to relish living--sailing high And in the April breezes fluttering. I crushed his empty shell between my hands And hoped he safely flew to other lands.