As I was helping get
breakfast ready this morning, a moth flew into the kitchen. Biggish moth.
Size of a matchbook cover. It
flew up against a window and fluttered there – obviously looking for a way out of the house.
I captured it in a juice
glass with an index card cover and escorted it out to the front porch. As I walked to the door with it, I took the
opportunity to look carefully at the animal and appreciate how gorgeous it was. Subtle collection of grays and browns. Proper Quaker attire. When I set the glass down on the front step
and took off the covering card, the moth took a few moments on the inside of
the glass to get properly oriented, and then it flew up and landed on my head –
right next to my ear.
Now, if it had landed on
my hair or my pajamas, I might not have noticed and possibly carried it back
into the house accidentally. But the sound
of soft fluttering as it approached my head followed by the gentle caress of
the moths wings made it easy to discern what was happening.
It stayed there for
several seconds and I had the feeling it was saying “Thank you!” in moth-ese. So I said “You’re welcome.” And the moth flew away into the early morning
sky.
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