Saxifraga granulata 1971 from Dr. Mary Gillham Archive
I saw a moth struggling.
At first I moved to help flip it over and then saw that it wasn’t alone.
An ant was on top of it-it was killing it.
I was stuck. I wanted to save the moth but I didn’t know if one should interfere.
It wasn’t my world. Much smaller. In the end, I helped, but was too late.
It makes me go-
I just want to be tiny in the moss.
We posit that Dark Matter exists because something unseen and unmeasured must balance out the momentum and spin of celestial bodies.
Seems like fairies to me.
Each morning I sit between these two trees
and I let the ants crawl all over me.
I’m going to stop showing my face around these parts once they’re done with me.
The Western Massachusetts Missed Connections was a feed that could be counted on for poetry, creative writing and various other textual explorations. Someone wrote a series of Saxifrage titled pieces last year, including this one, Saxifrage Swamp, that I published last summer. My “saved” (rescued might be a better word…) folder is pretty large, so there might be a few more in there that explore this same theme.
