The sun is shining, the street, people thronged
And all hurrying.
So much business, so much stress and pressure,
So much to do, so little time to 'be'
That the light of this beautiful day
Seems somehow, to be missing.
Suddenly a splash of orange flutters by my head.
I see a night moth, its wings each bearing an open eye
Its head a lion's mane.
It saunters in its flight between bobbing heads,
Pitches between toddlers’ feet
Touches lightly, silk dresses and slick suits
Alights, albeit briefly upon the bare arm
Of a dozing drunk
Then soars up again, not like an eagle
Reaching for the sky
But somewhat erratically clumsily
Crashing against shop windows.
Like the drunk, lost and wandering.
Trudie Shannon
