Mr Moth has been sitting on my windowsill for so long, and must have enjoyed the view.
He ended up dying there.
I dare not move him, for like all the other ornaments on my windowsill, he likes to observe the tall Kauri and Ponga which watch him back.
It has occurred to me, of late, that I have a fascination for dead specimens, be it plant or insect. It might strike some as melancholic, but to me it is not. I can see how it might be however. I'm not quite sure what attracts me to these things. Somehow there is an innate beauty in form, that does not move. The life has lived through it, and left beauty in its wake.
It's not the same as something that never moved.
Like a string puppet which once bathed in all its glory, now sits on a shelf in an olde attic,
covered in dust.
My macro and I, we like to watch, and wait.