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.
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