A Moth

An iridescent moth tried today to visit,
Determined that no screen or glass
Could stop his wish to preen illicit,
To preside at dinner or take his rest
On our possibly too grim decor,
A moth’s conception of a nest,
Shaded eaves and sliding doors
Leading on our dim-eyed guest,
A compliment that the poor, misled
Rainbow-winged and elegant
Of our kingdom feel the need
To pass their days in such a tinted
State, with its beguiling jungle prints,
Its guarantees of safety so misread.