Wings of Desire

April may be the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain, as Mr. Eliot put it. But surely May is sadder still, at least in southern Brevard County, Florida, where each day dozens of star-crossed lovers, tiny, tragic Romeos and Juliets, fling themselves to their deaths on my car’s windshield. It’s lovebug season.

I have no idea whether the Ais and the Timucuans who lived here before the Europeans moved in named their months as other native peoples did, but “Planting Moon” or “Full Flower Moon” or “Moon When the Horses Get Fat” just doesn’t cut it down here. So I named last night’s full moon the Lovebug Moon in honor of our doomed flying libertines, locked forever in coital embrace. I hope their loving petits morts will coincide with the Big Death being dealt them by my mammoth of glass and steel. That way I catch them coming and going.

Categories: Life in Florida, Nature | 5 Comments

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5 thoughts on “Wings of Desire

  1. NOT an experiment gone wrong. I just want to be clear on that.

    When I first moved here in ’76, they were so bad it clogged cars, causing them to overheat. Driving was sometimes impossible. Biking, out of the question.

  2. Très drôle last line.

  3. You make it sound almost Wagnerian.

  4. helen

    They go out with a bang…

  5. indigo bunting


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