The moth came to the porch light just after sunset. It settled on the warm wall, moved a little to the left when the bulb brightened, then folded its wings again.
I turned the switch down and sat on the step. In the softer light I could see two pale commas on its wings. The garden had been asking for less from me all evening. I had only needed to notice.
It stayed until the sky was fully dark. Then it lifted without hurry and disappeared over the rosemary.