finish with work
at daylight's
end.
smoke by my car
in the parking lot.
a solitary moth
interrupts the stillness.
fluttering, bouncing against
the floor.
i wonder where he's been today,
if anyone else has noticed him.
he seems content
with a life alone,
drifting across the ground.
somehow, i envy him.
and i think of all
the wonderful things
i may have
overlooked.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Chanaski wrote one about a fly I liked too. Like this one too.