The Moth

I didn't notice that heat had led
to an open the kitchen door
until the large moth flies passed my face
on its way to crash land on the carpet.
It walks a few steps before making
an abortive flight a few feet ahead.
It walks again.

I rise from the couch, cross over,
and let it climb onto my fingers,
but halfway to the door, it flies back
to the carpet and walks away again.
I cup my hands around it another time
and let it walk back onto my palms,
but this time, I shield it loosely.

Outside, the moth does not fly yet,
choosing instead to rush up my arm
and across my back before taking
to the sky, flying back toward the door.

I close the screen door behind me.