The Moth
The forest was once the epitome of nature's serenity. It was here that mother nature once ruled for this place was unaltered by the destructive forces of mankind. The emerald-colored trees were positioned randomly among the rolling hills that were the foundation of the forest, and when the wind blew, they would dance feverously with one another. On their branches, brown squirrels darted from place to place in a desperate search for next winter's food supply, which they would take and strategically hide in the many tree holes. Birds of all shapes and colors flew above the green canopy, singing beautifully-mastered songs passed down from generation to generation. White-tailed deer pranced around the giant Ponderosas and ate vibrantly red berries off of all the shrubbery they could find.
Yet, in an ironic and cruel fate, it was Mother Nature herself that toppled this forest masterpiece from its beautiful standings. In the black of night, encumbered rainclouds dragged their massive bodies above the forest, and then released their burdens of rain seemingly all at once. The sky was filled with thunderous roars as lightning illuminated the sky for seconds at a time. However, the clouds became too careless when placing their bolts, and before long, one of these brilliant sparks went haywire, striking a tall pine tree. The misfortunate tree burst into flames almost immediately, and though it was raining, quickly spread the fire to its brothers and sisters around it. The fire greedily devoured the woodland tree by tree, ignoring the light sprinkle from above and wetness of the forest floor. Only when the firefighters arrived, with their powerful water cannons and fire resistant suits, was the fiery beast able to be contained. Within the following days, the fiend was extinguished. 
Looking upon the forest was now a pitiful sight. Beauty, serenity, and all its other pleasant qualities had now dissolved and been replaced by desolation and sorrow. The pine trees, which were once animate bodies that danced gleefully in the wind, now were charred black corpses, stiff with rigor mortis. Some of these burnt corpses remained upright, standing at awkward and unnatural angles, though a majority of them lay skewed on top of the charcoal black earth. The harmonic voices of the various song birds were absent, for they had taken their sonatas and ballads with them as they flew far away from their burning homes. The only sound that was apparent in the former forest is the lonely howl of the wind, which no longer picked up pine needles or leaves, but now created stifling clouds of dust and ash. The many animals that once called the forest home were forced to flee in great haste, or else they would have perished in the inferno. The carefully hidden food stashes created by little squirrels were left forgotten, and all the bushes that produced the delectable red berries that the deer so greatly admired had been reduced to ash. What was once the forest, teeming with creatures and full of life, was now an  inanimate graveyard.
However, not all of the life had evacuated the tree necropolis, for one tiny organism chose to stay amongst the forest. I had almost overlooked the creature as I surveyed this burned woodland around me, and found it accidentally as I passed one of the charred trees. Upon an arm of the blackened sentinel a moth sat gingerly, resting from a fruitless pursuit of flowers that had fallen victim to the fire. He was a dark brown color and spotted with black and grey dots, making him seem rather invisible while he rested upon the similarly colored limb. His body was covered in brown fur, like that of teddy bear, and it had antennae that were almost the same length as his tiny body. His large eyes seemed to bulge out of his head, yet they must of been of no use to him, for he did not stir or fly away when I approached him; perhaps I was as invisible to him as he was to me. As I carefully observed this delicate creature, I could not help but wonder why such  a fine specimen of life would choose to stay in a place where all the life had been depleted. It was evident that this was no longer the hospitable land it once was, and so the logic for him resting in this place was known only by the moth itself.
Despite the reason the moth chose to rest in the remains of this forest,  he knew he could not live out the rest of his days in this dreadful place; there were no flowers  for him to collect the nectar from, and there were no eligible candidates to mate with. So once he was content with the duration of his stay, he pushed off of the burnt bark and began his journey toward greener pastures and forests. I watched the moth flutter gracefully above where the great canopy once was and into pale blue sky until he was out of sight, leaving me alone upon the scorched earth surrounded by the corpses that were once called trees.