Several times this summer at the same quick stop gasoline station down from my house, where the lights are bright, glaring, gleaming, and always on, I've seen some incredible moths. Lively, vivacious, lovely moths by night are somewhat subdued and more easily photographed by day. It's been interesting to see which moths are still there when the lights fade, though I know they are attracted to the light.
Aren't we all?
The saying as "as a moth is drawn to the flame" is used to describe an attraction of one something by another something that seems to be automatic, uninhibited and possibly inexplicable. But we no longer use flames to light our way. It's not the heat that draws a moth. It's the light.
I'm not sure the Rosy Maple or Walnut Sphinx, as I suppose these to be, care much for the heat of a light in the summer. But to the light they go.
There is comfort in light. What's the first thing you reach for when the lights go out? Think of lighthouses along a rocky or shallow coast. There is safety in light. What is it we always look for at the end of a tunnel? We, as moths, are drawn from the darkness, into the light.