PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You're through with me this summer,
as moths leave our black walnut tree
for the back yard light.

A flame with heat to spare
returns your call.
You take your phone
to the yard's east side
where breeze
lays waste to line-breaks.

A single moth
flits to fan
the front porch lamp
as you leave.

There's the cricket's din.
It's an honest racket;
while you and the moth,
thick as cons,
embezzle a partner
of his bedraggled blanket.