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Amazing Moths in the Moonlight. Calling down the Moon Goddess, let down your white tresses for us to climb gently towards the stars. Finding nectar in the fronds of a thistle. A whistle from the moon, too soon to say how many of our hatchlings will survive, our cocoons marooned, on the underside of the thistle, so sharp and off-putting, with it's crinkly edges, so off-putting to soft bovine mouthes, I wonder why they cling so hard to one another, like lovers in the moonlight.
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