Moth Tears

Greetings fellow story lovers,
Poet Ted Kooser inspired my muse with the following poem.
Lobocraspis Griseifusa

    This is the tiny moth who lives on tears, who drinks like a deer at the gleaming pool at the edge of the sleeper’s eyes, the touch of its mouth as light as a cloud’s reflection.  –Ted Kooser
I have seen many wondrous sights in nature.  My first occurred when I was a teenager rabbit hunting with my father.  I glanced up at a nearby snow-covered hill and saw a brilliant red fox.  I took in every strand of his bright fur, his alert ears and moist eyes.  For a second before he darted away, we looked at one another, snapping together a link in the chain of life.
After that moment, I paid closer attention to the mysteries in nature, marveling at all I could see and all that wasn’t revealed.
Blazed in my memory is the time a few years ago when I awoke early, looked out the cabin’s window to the lake, and saw five river otters playing along the shore.  That following winter, while skiing through the woods, I encountered an otter again, this time bounding through the snow like a deer.  On another skiing adventure, I spotted a face appearing to be a mix between a fox and a teddy bear and got my first glimpse of a pine martin.
I’ve observed turkeys strutting and ruffed grouse drumming, a rare Hawaiian goose honking and a mongoose prowling, but I’ve never had a moth, whose mouth is as light as a cloud’s reflection, drink from my tears.
I’ve kayaked next to a beaver, heard it slap its tail sounding like a gun shot, found its lodge, leaned my ear toward the cozy hut made from sticks and mud, and been treated to the sound of the babies inside mewing like newborn kittens.
Several springs ago while hiking alone near our cabin, I spotted a fawn still wet from birth.  I bent down on my knees, and, wonder of wonders, the fawn approached me.  I held out my hands and felt a surge of joy unlike any other as it licked my fingers.  I ran to tell my husband and when we returned, my joy was complete as it tottered toward me and later wanted to follow me home.

This fawn seemed to want to say hello and even licked my hand.

I’ve had a newly born fawn lick my fingers, but I’ve never had a moth uncurl its straw and take life as it licks away my tears.
I’ve seen mint-green luna moths flying in the moonlight and watched hatching painted lady butterflies unfurl their wings.  I’ve spotted mated turkey vultures flying into their cave nesting site.  I’ve witnessed young great horned owls and newly fledged ospreys peer over their nests, as if anxious for their adult life to begin.  Mating eagles and sandhill cranes have performed elaborate courting dances in my presence.
I’ve walked the same hiking paths as moose, elk and buffalo.
Once, I unknowingly shared a blueberry patch with a black bear.
Yet I’ve never had a moth light on my cheek while I slept and drink at the gleaming pool of my tears.
Or have I?
Storysharer would love to hear bewildering questions you ponder.
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