The bats

Pass-by

My

Face

So close

I can feel

As well as

Hear

The fluttering

Of their leathery wings;

Imagine

Their sharp little teeth,

Open mouths,

Looking for moth

Or midge;

Struggling to interpret

My moving form

At four in the morning

Just,

As the sun starts to rise.

 

I think of throwing them a stone,

As

Jorg

Once advised me,

But cannot find any suitable

And so,

Leave them to

Flap

In darkened parabolas.

parabola painting by matteo bernasconi

Trying to understand the world, one emotion at a time.

One Comment on “The bats

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