The Big Picture

moth on flower

Maybe the Earth is just a flower in a garden

Swaying in the breeze, leaning toward the distant sun

Maybe all her creatures are mere insects drinking nectar

Minutes in the season of life that we call “Spring.”

Perhaps you and I are a pair of orange moths

Fluttering our wings, clinging desperately to land

When we fly away, the garden still will be here

For another pair of nectar connoisseurs to find.

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