with anonymous markings
no distinct patterns, flutter
in every corner of my yard.
At least a dozen, unusual,
all in one place, at one time
with me watching them.

If they were Monarchs,
would I find it more incredible?
Would I stare more intently?
Wouldn’t I run and holler to
those inside the house—
"Come take a look at this!"
If they were Swallowtails,
would I try to run and get
my camera to snap a photo?

Instead, I stand and watch
the dull tan moths lighting
on the top of the pool water
for a tiny drink in hot August.

I scoop them up, help them fly
before they get sucked into
the skimmer. I watch, I smile
as they dry their wings and fly
to the next yard, without me.

© by Larry Lawrence.
Used with the author’s permission.