Myrtle the Moth
There’s a busy little lady who we seldom ever see
Working her little heart out for the good of you and me
Tis Myrtle the grey Moth with her important nightly work
A covert unpaid gardener in the place she goes to lurk
Butterflies and bees are those that harvest the most praise
For pollinating flowers during hot and humid days
But Myrtle works her nightshift most efficiently in fact
Working through the garden with most credible impact
The bats are out to eat her so she uses camouflage
Together with her rather anxious mothy entourage
Sporadically she looks around between the twilight flowers
To possibly break ranks and spend more stimulating hours
She can hear the bats approaching; her instincts on alert
They are known to eat her species – it’s a risk she must avert
You’ve left your window open and it entices her inside
She flaps inside to save her life, eventually her pride
Your drawer, jam-packed with knitwear plus a very hungry moth
Will cause you almost certainly considerable wrath
It’s the inconspicuous Myrtle, who with clandestine delight
Invades your cherished cashmere undetected in the night.
She’s not deliberately out to spoil your most prestigious piece
She just requires a cosy spot to chomp away in peace
It seems a safe location to plant her eggs with no more fear
You’re unaware of this incursion till much later in the year
As winter comes, our host extracts her woollies from the drawer
Her cashmere sports a handsome hole, she throws it on the floor.
Our Myrtle has been busy and her family was too
Her cashmere lies in ruins, and more eggs will soon ensue
With heavy heart she picks it up and bakes it in the stove
The safest place to kill the eggs and stop them on the rove
They won’t survive the ordeal and your lovely garment neither
But at least she won’t offload her countless children on you either
Her twilight visitation was her downfall, R I P
But at least the little minx had her ‘Last Supper’ peacefully.
Photo: Pexels.com / Thales13
Rosemary McGuire