I know where they go,
when they’re not fighting and mating.
Tonight the outside light is on.
In my sight, the juveniles,
back for their midnight meets.
So much blossom fuss, half the trees
live headed, and they’re off their faces,
demethylating in nectar.
Tomorrow,
I’ll sweep their mess,
while they hang humble as socks
safely back in their creche,
all eyes on the clocks.
'demethylating in nectar' — gave that up personally years ago! and 'hang humble as socks' — lovely lines, lovely poem!
ReplyDeleteBut demethylating is good for you, Robbie! Thanks for the comments:)
Deletelovely images. xm
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mikaela!
DeleteNight magic! And the deliciously creepy image of all the bat eyes on the clocks ...
ReplyDeleteI like that, "deliciously creepy", Lizz. Thanks!
Deletesocks in the creche, I'll buy that!
ReplyDeletelol! I'm relieved, James :)
DeleteThanks, Michele!
ReplyDeletenice poem, neat and cute
ReplyDeleteAgreed. I would only add that of course it's a very fine poem and I'm grateful for both the bats and you, Efi!
ReplyDelete