P-P-P-P-P-P-Pearl

Pearl is precious and persnickety. 
She is peevish,
Rarely purrs,
And is particularly proud
Of being a p-p-p-p-p-p-Perfect Pearl. 

I took this of Pearl on the same morning that I took the follow-up photos of the Polyphemus moths. Only two remained on the higher branches of the marriage pine. The lady had made her choice during the night. Or perhaps, one male was vanquished by another. Either way, the ending seemed rather tragic to me, as later in the day I found a lone male,
clearly, the worse for having loved the lady. 

Two extras tell the rest of the tale. I can hear the strains of Wagner's Love-Death in the background.