A Rest for the Moth

Coming in from the garden as the night settled, I walked over to the sill where a soft, amber nightlight hummed. A tiny brown moth was fluttering erratically against the glass, weary from seeking warmth. I reached out toward the pane and offered a dry folded card standing nearby, angling it into a gentle ramp. Sensing the quiet perch, the little traveler rested its trembling wings upon the stiff paper and grew calm. Seeing it rest so peacefully in the comforting glow brought stillness to the room, knowing no wandering soul is ever forgotten.