The observer awakes,
In its cave hidden from sight,
The embrace of sleep now it shakes,
It drops from the ceiling and glides into the night,
Gliding swooping,
Soaring looping,
The acrobatics of the nocturnal visors,
The swift and graceful racers.
It glances and sees a moth,
Silently, effortlessly, it dives.
Snap, a meal is done, no need for cloth,
When the night is done,
When the enveloping ebony of midnight is fading,
The little bat returns from its fun,
It effortlessly flows into its cave,
Finished is the midnight raiding.
Now it rests for the day,
So it will be rested come what may.

To us it is a rustle of wings in the gloomy night,
A shrill soft squeak,
A fleeting glimpse.
It is so much more.

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