We sat on a bench
by the river's edge,
talking and laughing,
then you reached -
toward me I thought -
and with your finger
tore a tangled spider web
between the slats,
freeing a little grey moth
caught there
beating frantic wings.

It perched on your finger
a moment,
until you held it aloft
and gently blew,
smiling as it flew.

I breathed an extra breath
as something in me
soared.