Ten minutes last night of frantic flapping on the screen. Then he settles on the siding, unperturbed by flashlight.
She comes inside for winter, but iridesces all the summer long, oiled steel electrified with color.
Through her antennae she reaches, three boards higher than last night,
where the Luna moth has parked, on the morning of the next day.
Ah! She has him!
Romance that never may be. Forever shall she yearn and he be free.
The lovely lunatic is perched, for one long moment.
Nevermore.