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: Bats
I'm sitting here watching the little bats fly,
From the eaves in their tumbling, skittering flight,
Into the swiftly darkening sky,
Hunting for moths in the warm summer night.
Just a fragment, might do something with it.
I like my little bats, they each have their own little patrol area. My favourite flies twice round the flat to the left, then twice to the right.
We sit and time him going past the window, sometimes we stand out in the garden and watch him, or maybe her. He goes out to the the streetlamp at the front and round the big tree at the back.
I think they are pipistrelles, they are the very small ones.
OK its too dark to see them now except round the street light, got called away mid post.
Night, night
Tags: bats, poetry
I'm sitting here watching the little bats fly,
From the eaves in their tumbling, skittering flight,
Into the swiftly darkening sky,
Hunting for moths in the warm summer night.
Just a fragment, might do something with it.
I like my little bats, they each have their own little patrol area. My favourite flies twice round the flat to the left, then twice to the right.
We sit and time him going past the window, sometimes we stand out in the garden and watch him, or maybe her. He goes out to the the streetlamp at the front and round the big tree at the back.
I think they are pipistrelles, they are the very small ones.
OK its too dark to see them now except round the street light, got called away mid post.
Night, night
Current Mood: 
contemplative
contemplative