Why do the insects swarm to the light?
Does some inaudible voice
call to them as the sun sets,
as the cool sets in?
Do they gather because the
night is filled with emptiness,
because they imagine predators
beyond the boundaries of the
glowing porch light?
Does the music of their wings
demand they find partners
for the dance?
Or do they sense, in their tiny,
nearly brainless frames, that
life is too short to spend it
in the darkness?
I love it when poems leave me pondering. Thank you
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