Delicate silks, decorated in gleeful colours,
A stark contrast to the soft dark light.
Filtering through dense, lush and black wings.
Or not. The master of disguise, dead to the world,
Hidden under trails , tunnels, reflecting,
The wonder of the watcher, beaded and glistening,
The heat, encompassing, revives the soul.
And the painted silks, floating in bliss,
Come to rest against our humble skin.