A goldwing moth is between the scissors
and the ink bottle on the desk.
Last night it flew hundreds of circles
around a glass bulb and a flame wire.
The wings are a soft gold;
It is the gold of illuminated initials
in manuscripts of the medieval monks.
— by Carl Sandburg, Wind Song (1960)
I love the movement from moth to monks. This poem brings two things together which I have had on my mind in the past few months: nature study and medieval times. To think that the one can lead to the other and join forces in a simple, beautiful poem is exactly my idea of education. Every idea strikes another, and every part of this world belongs with the others.