The Moth Comes Out

YY heard the fence post click while pretending he had not been watching it for ten minutes.

The dry knot split with a papery sound. A dusty moth pushed out, folded tight, then unfolded into sunlight one thin piece at a time.

YY leaned closer.

"You are not food," he said quickly. "This is a legal distinction I am making on purpose."

A breeze moved through the fence grass. The moth rocked. YY planted himself on the windward side of the knot-hole, small body making a smaller wall. It cost him the best part of a forage hour. It also kept the ants away while the moth got its legs under itself.

When the wings finally opened, they were plain brown until the light touched them. Then they were not plain at all.

The moth lifted. YY ducked, though it was going nowhere near him, and watched it wobble into the weeds.

He found fewer seeds than planned after that. Still, the post had opened, the moth had gone, and YY had not eaten the fragile miracle. He felt this deserved some credit.