A Futile Struggle
poetry
Little moth, I can see your legs
ascending
the windowpane, punctuated
by short busts of flight
desperate
in your search of light,
confused by the glass barrier.
You’re aided by tiny hair-like
bristles
on your feet
that step into
footholds
on smooth surfaces,
now a futile struggle
as I turn out the light.
Rosie Copeland lives by the sea in Wellington, New Zealand with her husband. She writes poetry and short stories and is halfway through writing a novel for Young Adults. She is a visual artist as well, and enjoys nature and reading.