Mang

They come up from the river at dusk and fly into the gold dragon lamps lining the block of restaurants. One after another the half moth half worm insects fall to the ground. Hundreds of thousands of white fluttering wings litter the ground like snow, except that this snow is living. breathing and writhing in the last few moments of the dying twilight.
In the morning the dried out corpses line the road in heaps and piles. The stench is unbearable but the clean-up crews come by and sweep them all up before it becomes entirely light.
I'm asked if we have these moths without legs in the U.S. I answer "not in Oregon."