By Lydia Chapman

My eyes trail the unpredictable trajectory of the bats’ swift fluttering motions. For a few hours they dominate and command the evening, black holes riding maverick wind currents, snagging all insects in their path ; only to dissipate with the dawning of morning, dismantled from their aristocratic status with a beam of light. Who knows where else they reign in high rank when they ride off with the moon, and night falls to day

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s