Each to their own..

Across the fields at eventide.
I can hear a choir singing
faintly. As the birds are winging
back to their nests. Now peace abides.

The pipistrelles begin to glide
Across the sky on leathern wings.
From secret places where they hide.
Until the shadows gathering.

Persuade the bats to come outside
The time has come for foraging.
Until they're fully satisfied
with insects taken on the wing.

The soft twilit tranquillity.
Presents an opportunity.
Which men and bats see differently.
I think not unsurprisingly.

Saturday,14 July 2012

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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