bats at dusk

bats at dusk, rio grande

bats at dusk, rio grande

The bats at dusk glide and dip
As if drunk
Yet, actually, are guided by infinitesimal
Sensors, down to a hairline fracture, on their journey to what they seek

If we didn’t know we may think bats were lost, inebriated, or, worse, incapacitated
And unable to fend for themselves
(though they go on making bat families)

Perhaps we should rethink the term “batty”
Wild kook? Or incredibly honed, following some inner radar we can’t detect?

Open the gates of perception
Allow what is “different” or “other than”
It may just be that he or she
Is simply attuned to something
You can’t see

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