By moonlight and mischief,
he steps from the shadows
a moth in motion, coat like cloaks of dusk,
lantern in hand, secrets in stride.
He does not wander. He arrives.
And wherever he goes,
the night hums with curiosity.
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From @mabalacat
By moonlight and mischief,
he steps from the shadows
a moth in motion, coat like cloaks of dusk,
lantern in hand, secrets in stride.
He does not wander. He arrives.
And wherever he goes,
the night hums with curiosity.