Grounded

The moth that died with its wings extended

The photo shows a moth I found on the outside of the glass pane of our back door.

It appears to have become stuck fast and died in the act of trying to fly.

Its wings are rigid with the attempt to lift its bulky body clear of the surface.

I could be wrong about it – there’s no reason why the window should be sticky. But it’s an allegory for a human situation at the same address.

The moth achieved its wish posthumously: the gale that blew up today has finally detached it and whirled it away.

Filigree butterflies

Butterflies perched on a neck chain and hairslides

The weather has wings, in other words it’s windy, and the flowers are swaying and fluttering.

The butterflies are hiding somewhere, afraid to take to the air.

There are normally several swallowtail butterflies around, alighting on the rosemary or doing a mating ‘pas à deux’ over the pond.

But today the only butterflies to be found are the ones I’m wearing round my neck and in my hair.