The Moth and the Oak
One ember of an oak chock I’d cut
Remained
while all of us sat around this dying fire
Hoping to keep our stories going.
Hoping to keep our lives and love going.
Then a moth landed
And sizzled one thread-leg
On the dying oak
As we watched it decide to fly off above us
To tell the story to its friends about a lost leg, sizzled amongst desperate strange beings.
Copyright © Lee Etheridge | Year Posted 2022
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