On The Ground

Whose woods these are I think I know

photo by Ellen

July 2026

On The Ground

Whose woods these are I think I know.

We turn off the straightaway path
and find our footing on narrow bike trails 
deeper into the verdant woods of summer
greens, dark and rich.

On the ground 
a pale, ghostly green catches my eye
one wing of a four-winged luna moth 
its eyespot fading.

Further along

On the ground
double wings of a four-winged luna moth
one fore and one hind
its eyespots fading. 

Even further along

On the ground 
three wings of a four-winged luna moth
two fore and one hind
its eyespots fading.

Eyespots not for seeing
not eyes at all
trickery for survival
predators, easily fooled. 

(How like the luna moth I am
flashing falsity
Look here, a whispered wink
to protect my vulnerability.) 

For seven days, maybe eight or ten
the lifespan of a luna moth
lime-green for only the blink of an eye
then pale, ghostly green
its eyespots fading. 

For seven nights, maybe eight or ten
namesake of the moon
lime-green and winged
then pale, ghostly green
its eyespots fading.

Both
moon and moth
in fullness and in fade
light-becoming 
on the ground. 

Whose woods these are I think I know. 

by Ellen Gabardi
July 2026

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