April is the cruelest month for moths
that, having spent all winter in a cocoon,
eclose too soon and find themselves
crawling, cold, on a busy sidewalk,
an impossible distance yet to go
before a real spring with no snow.
The dark-eyed moth that my son saw
this morning and that burrowed its
buff-colored bison head into my hand
is now named Napoleon, my son tells me.
Napoleon, who unfurled his proboscis,
tasted my palm for nectar, salt. Napoleon,
now in our dining room, in an enclosure
that was folded up, awaiting monarchs.
Prompts from NaPoWriMo (Which month is the cruelest?), Poetic Asides (distance), and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (nature).
Marilyn Rauch Cavicchia 
This is wonderful, a life saved and a lesson learned by your son…..very cool mothering!!!!!!!
Thank you! I knew I’d be bringing it home when it tried to taste me. Poor thing. We have some Gatorade for it, which is the easiest substitute nectar.
What an amazing story! Hang in there, Napoleon–spring is coming!
This is incredible 😀
Beautifully put.
Napoleon, what a great name for the moth 🙂
Thanks! My son is 7 and is a great namer. 🙂
Absolutely wonderful. I am now in love with your moth.
Thanks, Rosemary! We still have him because the weather continues to look unfavorable. I wish it would clear.
Me too. Beautiful lines and love the way you told this.
Thank you, Debi!
What a wonderful tale, both the telling and the content. It made me smile when I truly needed to!
Thanks, Cara! I’m glad to hear that.
burrowed its
buff-colored bison head into my hand
is now named Napoleon,
lovely description of a butterfly
Thank you! I found out that Napoleon is a type that is adapted to the cold, so we let him go this afternoon.
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