Jenkins Street Poetry Project
A collection of original poems by Don Stinson
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Flight of the Last Bat, 2034
Sonaring into the soft night,
The last bat sails
From lonely upside-down
Onto a dark, quivering branch
Battered by a deepening breeze.
She receives no reply to her pings,
Audio hieroglyphics fading to silence
Throughout a lengthening moment.
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