Monday, August 24, 2015

Locked Out

I detest standing outside locked doors under porch lights while fifty frantic bugs flutter around me.  I can hardly bear it.

But this naturally glamorous moth kept quietly to herself, and I admired her for it since her kind are normally the most fluttery of them all.  Maybe she wanted to keep her antennae nice, or maybe she just wasn't the in-your-face type.  I would have liked to know her story or where she bought those expensive-looking wings, but then someone unlocked the door and I bolted in and never saw her again.

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