Luna

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

Sylvia Plath

It's not such a great photo, although I like the composition. It was a quick grab, car door hanging open, kid saying "Mom! Get back in the car! We have to go!".

What I adore about it is the scale and timeline. The moth, one wing almost torn off, full of holes and knicks and looking jagged, hangs from the same branch where last week's roses wither and die, turning brilliant pink before they go orange and then brown. In the bottom corner another rose, next week's fallen petals ... far off in the blur is next month's rose .... and so it goes. And goes. And goes.

This is a Luna moth. Another from the same series on flickr today.