Nothing Lasts.
Nothing is so delicate or so finely hinged as the wings
of the green moth
against the lantern
against its heat
against the beak of the crow
in the early morning.
Yet the moth has trim, and feistiness, and not a drop
of self-pity.
Not in this world
Mary Oliver
(Proof of Magpie Moth etching on studio wall – etching with drypoint, chine-colle & watercolour.)
