Moths in the first rains

At the dead of the night, they embrace
Their shadows on the frosted glass
The window –sill is carpeted with wings
The garden walk is strewn with
Innumerable carcasses of one-day glory
Where were the creatures the last season ?
Then the weather was warm and oppressive
It was only towards the vaporous evenings
That light rain kissed the fragrant earth
Nowhere was the north-west monsoon in sight
These fairy creatures crouched under the earth
With half-sprouted wings for take-off
This season it is entirely different
These are long wet nights followed by
Rich raking of their gossamer wings.