Tonight
I saw them loud.
Lonely
under the cloudcast-filtered glow
under the cloudcast-filtered glow
of
a crescent mooned evening sky
it
began high
up in the old pecan tree
up 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
a dark flash
gives
pacing such quick, directed wind.
See
them land
right down there
right down there
in
the mossy grass so anticipating rain.
Like
big old crows
they came swooping down
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
yet, here they come to roost tonight!
But
the sadness,
the stakeout
the stakeout
I
so deeply understand
and
it's as if
the old cedar somehow knew
the old cedar somehow knew
the
ones to beckon the corners of my eye
and
it's as if
the old cedar somehow knew
the old cedar somehow knew
which
ones mine
and which ones flying by.
and which ones flying by.
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