Wednesday, 10 July 2013

Bats swoop

It's darker now than it has been,
despite the heat of the day.
It's darker, now, tonight.
Bats swoop and glide overhead.
Tiny pipistrelles, a summer glide,
trailing glimpses of autumn and halloween. It's darker now.
My mother's capacity for love
is greater than mine has ever been.
My father's, less, I think.
Bats swoop.
Worked late again.
Bats swoop.
Meant to go swimming.
Bats swoop.
But things came up.
Bats.
Swoop.

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