“A change is gonna come”
Sam Cooke, 1964
Talking about the strength of moths,
how they undergo a metamorphosis
from the staying power
of a plodding caterpillar
into the grace of dustlike scales
on the beauty of open wings.
They fade into their surroundings,
hide in the silence of wool and cotton wads.
Yet when a light beams,
they fly to their fate,
their luminous feathery antennae
sensing their only direction.