Tonight I saw them loud.
Lonely under
the cloudcast-filtered glow
of a crescent mooned evening sky
it began high in the old pecan tree
over the roof of such supposed abodes.
I heard the bats again,
screeching for a night-time wood.
Within the gloom a dark flash
gives pacing such quick, directed wind.
Watched them land right down there
in the mossy grass so anticipating rain.
Like big old crows they came swooping down
and following the mighty screeches,
landed in my yard.
The shadows,
like birds
first are wings beautifully aflutter
but touching down wings get tucked to walk
and like all things God
must only wobble in this realm.
I know you must not pity shadows
and here they come to roost tonight!
But the sadness, the stakeout
I so deeply understand
and it's as if the old pecan somehow knew
the ones to beckon the corners of my eye
and it's as if the old pecan somehow knew
which ones mine and which ones flying by.
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