Last summer, polyphemus moths emerged from the forest canopy, their large eye-like wing spots startling casual hikers.

At twilight, swift moths skimmed the surface of the pond as if following invisible currents.

Every spring, turnip moths lay eggs on the tender leaves of my garden's brassicas.

Wax moths can devastate an unattended beehive by consuming the comb and weakening the colony.

Last summer, I found flour moths in the pantry after a bag of flour tore open.

At dusk, hummingbird moths hovered over the garden, sipping nectar from the trumpet vines.

At dusk, plume moths emerged from the tall grasses, their slender wings resembling delicate feathers.

Last summer, carpet moths destroyed the antique rug in my living room.

Last summer, I discovered clothes moths had chewed through my favorite wool sweater.

On a warm summer evening, burnet moths flitted among the clover, their bright spots warning predators of their toxicity.