Moths

Not sure if this hits the prompt, just my usual sort of mystical ramblings. For the dverse prompt.
Editing because I didn’t answer the question and realise I don’t know what to say. There’s a mystical quality to poetry and the writing of it and I always listen out for it.

Caillou High

There are no trout in this deep pool,
and though I peer with seeress eyes,
I see only damselflies
and the rapid scissor-dart of frogs.
I peer, see only in the mud, the wreck
of trees, the flotsam banked
like intricately woven dams.
No hazel twig hangs in suspense,
but whitethorn berries crowd the bank,
red-cloud the branches overhead,
and in the clouded crowd of small
white moths, I see the pearly drops
of moon, the fluttering ash of fire spent,
and know that you will come no more
to watch for trout in the damsel pool,
beneath the cooling white-moth moon.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

31 thoughts on “Moths”

  1. Mother Nature rules, but she suffers disrespect and abuse. Certainly she has a vatic voice. This is clever, colorful and thought provoking .

  2. Beautifully penned, but so incredibly poignant with a dark theme in nature.

    “I see the pearly drops
    of moon, the fluttering ash of fire spent,
    and know that you will come no more
    to watch for trout in the damsel pool,
    beneath the cooling white-moth moon.”

    Really loved these few lines. Very reminiscent to Sylvia Plath in my opinion. Indeed, very melancholic especially with how it can pertain to the future, along with the future of nature itself.

  3. Just lovely Jane, took me back to my childhood by the river (in Essex) – the old mill, the pools (rumoured there was a big pike resident), the weed, the little fish (tiddlers). And such a fine melancholy, amongst all this ruined beauty.

  4. You’ve described before how the Oracle has sent you poems: I hear the Vatic voice coming through strongly in all of your work, no need for further explanation!

  5. There is a longing and sadness for a missing muse, perhaps a lament in time of poetry burn out. Very interesting

    Much💓love

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