November Dusk by Martha Christina

Raking under the maple,
I unsettle two small moths
the color of light brown sugar
and sweet to my sentimental eyes.

One rises, undamaged,
disappears over the fence.

The other drags its torn wing
into the beige shadow
of a dried fern.

Winter Moths, the field guide tells me;
their life cycles short and destructive,
maple trees their common victims.

I breathe in the cold air.



Martha Christina is a frequent contributor to Brevities. Longer work appears in Innisfree Poetry Journal, Naugatuck River Review, earlier postings of Red Eft Review, and most recently in the anthology Ice Cream Poems from World Enough Writers. She has published two collections: Staying Found (Fleur-de-lis Press) and Against Detachment (Pecan Grove Press).