All photos & poems by Maria Isabel Pita unless otherwise indicated
If you really like them and want to use them, just let me know where and how.
These little green gems were all over our windows when we lived on 5 wooded acres in Louisiana. They make their homes in the trees but windowpanes are their favorite dining establishments–at night moths, attracted by the light, serve themselves up.
Watching these nightly feasts inspired me to write this Ode to a Moth:
Moths look like the ghosts of warrior kings—
ashes of armor and cloaks of evanescent victories—
burning ideals rewarded by the freedom of flight
determined backs to an endless night,
but even though I tap the glass in warning
they leave no imprint in the darkroom of a frog’s belly.
It is written on a moth’s wings in filigree
one story of all the lives composing me
as I die for the night cocooned in violet sheets
confident I will rise again, mysteriously.
Published in The Lyric Summer of 2009
My husband shot this photo of a snake which suddenly appeared on the gate directly in front of where we were sitting on our screened in porch in Ethel, Louisiana. I had been telling him about a scene I’d written in my novel about Hathspesut, the female Pharaoh, involving a sacred snake. Perhaps it was pleased. Stinger also commented that it formed an M, as though honoring my first initial. Life is full of such magical synchronicities, that is, if you’re open to seeing and appreciating them. If you’re thinking “it’s just a meaningless coincidence” this Blog is not for you!
I never tire of the faces revealed to my naked eye by my camera’s macro lens. When it comes to the intricasy of beauty–and the fascinating personalities it assumes–size definitely does not matter.
My great uncle did this painting in Cuba. Decades later, it hangs in my home in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia. One afternoon, a moth perched on it for several minutes and became a magically large part of the little town. I was born in Havana, Cuba but left the country when I was ten months old. I’ve never been back. I wouldn’t be able to breathe in the atmosphere of tyranny that still shrouds the beautiful and long-suffering island of my birth. Maybe one day, hopefully soon, Cubans will truly be free again in their homeland.
Stinger’s Large Image Collection–Hundreds of plants identified