Through the window to trouble me,
The dazzed moth comes.
It's wings, I see,
Are brown, with black spots along the rims.

The moth flutters about the light,
With bump and thud,
Throwing a random shadow on me,
Reading in bed.

This moth comes from a world of stars
And from dark woods,
Where fugitive creeping creatures
Do inhuman deeds.

Reading, I hear from wall to wall
The insect's stir.
A sound like a dead leaf falling,
Only quieter.

The silence listens to little sounds,
Even a breath.
Two are awake in a sleeping house,
A man and a moth.