Yellow-dusted Cream Moth · Furnace Run Trail

Yellow-Dusted Dreams: The Moth Hour

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by Cass Penegor

I had a dream the other night 
That I was sitting with the Yellow- 
Dusted Cream Moth. Together we sat 
Near a stream eating blueberries, both of us silent 

Only the sound of a warm May breeze 
Moving through leaves. 
I don’t know how long 
We sat there like that, 
The Moth and I, near that stream, 
Before we finally looked at one another. Tears 
Filled my eyes, and the soft cream wings of 
The Moth caught them as they fell. The Moth 
Leaned towards me and embraced me, held me close. 

The Moth whispered 
In my ear its 
Secrets— 
We both knew I would not remember them when I awoke.
Swaddled in its wings, listening to its songs 
Of mystery and 
Wonder, I felt at peace—I felt 
Understood, 
Like we might not be so different. 
I wish I could find you, Moth, outside 
Of my dreams, outside of the dullness of December. 

I would meet you in deciduous woods and together 

We would lay in fallen leaves, and
Feel the warmth of the sunlight above us, 
And I would tell you all of my secrets. 
I’m compelled 
To you, like you are 
To a flame, 
And each night I close my eyes, hoping my dreams 

Take me back 
To that stream where I will meet you again, Moth. The next 
time, I promise, I will bring some willow Or maybe some 
poplar with me, I know how you enjoy them.

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Traveling Stanzas community arts projects bring poetry to people’s everyday lives through innovative methods and digital platforms.