Luna Moth
Later in the afternoon, temperatures outside in the mid or upper 90s again, I was aimlessly looking out a window, just taking a break from work and walking around, and saw what I thought was a large butterfly of a strikingly pale color pass by like a flash of sunlight and stop on a leaf of a Savannah holly only a few inches away. It was a Luna Moth, filmy-green and exquisite, like a breath of cool air with wings.
It hung from a holly leaf with wings outspread, very large and so pale it looked more white than green, with feathery brown antennae, red feet, white furry body and wings that trailed down into long tails. A rusty wine-red line ran all along the top edge of the wings. Their surface looked as soft as rabbit fur, with subtle, feathery patterns, marked with four delicately drawn eyespots.
Its red legs grasped either side of the holly leaf, near the tip of a branch and completely exposed to the sun. Now and then the legs scrambled furiously, as if having trouble holding on to the slippery surface. Several minutes later, I went back and it was still there, but it had moved to a different position, with its legs now wrapped around a twig and looking more comfortable and secure, though it was still getting more sun than I would have thought it would want, and I wondered why it would stay there instead of choosing a spot deeper in the shade of a tree.
An hour and a half later, it was still there in almost the same spot, about half in shade and half in sun. And I noticed then how tattered and worn it looked. A big chunk was gone from the tip of one wing, and the trailing tail of the other had also been torn. It hung very still, shifting like a leaf in a breeze.