Posted on November 12, 2025 by Jenn Zatopek

ON A WEDNESDAY MORNING MID SEPTEMBER

I read of butterflies and moths to my little girl at school,
and as Carl Jung wrote, we see around corners,
the next morning–

a sphinx moth as big as my palm, downed on the sidewalk,
her delicate tawny wings fitting safely into my hands. 

I place her in the raised bed under tomatoes and basil,
where she rests like a queen, as still as any Zen.

Soon after my own sit, I notice her empty bed on the mulch,
and then–

I walk wild all day, falling into a heady blue sky
because look to me–

she flies into warm, breezy air, awkward and determined,
trusting her path upward into the light. 

Image / Thomas Elliott on Unsplash