secret life of bats

Hang quietly by your toes inside my walls;
twitter and scratch the itchy walls
as family needs outweigh privacy.
I wonder how you get upstairs:
do you glide at night around our
silent lamps, hoping for food?
Do you spend the day hooked
into our drapes, imitating part
of a flower pattern, sleeping
while we glide around our
silent furniture, with no
discernible purpose. Do you
ever watch us and wonder
why we have such tiny ears?
Why we keep bumping into things?
Why we spend so much time
heads up, but always look down?
How such a creature can exist
and what is its purpose?
I think we wonder the same thing
about us.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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