with a line from Charles Harpur
Once there were many, multitudes —
a vespertine spiral rising from the chimney
of the old, abandoned house. Oh,
how full of God those evening skies!
Tonight: one. This solo traveler
of the garden dusk skims the silvering
silk of sky and with quick swoops
and a loop hems day into gloom.
As a child, I traveled alone night
after night, I swam I did not fly
through the air. High above our house
and woods, such peace. What fools
below, I would dream-think,
as I breast-stroked
the soft resistance of sky.
Now I learn bats don’t have wings
so much as hands; don’t fly
so much as swim through the air.
Once in a room with no walls, a bat
tucked itself high above me and together
we slept. It hangs there still upside
down on the under
side of my dreams and night
after night stitches my spirit
back to me. Heavenward cousin
to my burrowing soul, come back
to my sky. Roost in my cave.
We can be
a colony of two.