December 23: Mothwing

The other day while I was sweeping the floor, in the pile of dust I found a tiny wing. It looked almost like a little torn corner of tissue paper, but it was too perfectly curved. I picked it up and took it outside to look at it in better light. I couldn't feel it in my fingers at all; the only way I knew it was there was by sight. There was almost no breeze, but just the slightest breath of air was all that was needed to pick up the wing and send it fluttering down the length of the porch, finally skipping and sliding across the smooth concrete. It may be the most delicate thing I've handled in my life