Bats

On seeing a bat (May 1993?) Feb. 3, 2001

The shadows in the room were layered

Like watercolor washes

From pale grey to almost black.

A flutter – not heard –

but seen.

The darkness shivered

and unloosed a fragment of the deepest shade.

It darted silently from left to right

in swooping arcs

then back

searching for an exit.

A small flittering form

the blackest of the blacks

it hovered, oscillated, vacillated, vanished

into nowhere

then fleetingly appeared anew.

I opened wide the doors.

The cool night air blew in.

Spellbound I tried to see into that dark

hoping he would find the breach

that only he could sense.

The darkness flowed into the room,

withdrew. I turned away.

For one brief moment I had touched the night.

The crest of my elation ebbed –

once more I was alone.

From the bat’s point of view

---

Silently

I glide along a stream of air.

Softly.

My soundless velvet flight

part of the velvet night.

Then suddenly

the great free spaces of my world

are there no more.

I turn to leave but baffled, sense a wall.

I try again.

Higher.

Lower.

Still a wall.

Around in a circle.

No way out.

The lost door.

Searching for the door.

Darting here and there

Desperate to lift up and touch the night,

merge with the cool darkness of my world.

Then

just as suddenly

a fresh wind

from I know not where.

But that is where I have to go.

It shows the way.

To the open door.

Who had opened the door?

And how? No matter.

I flutter, silently swoop out.

My wings ride on the wind

and bear me up, and up.

The world is mine once more.