Bat Poem by Gert Strydom

Where my eyes do catch the sparkle of the stars above the porch
when I see a bat hanging squealing above the porch-light
it's a hot high-veldt summer evening with a golden moon
where my mother does call out and scream, as she is scared of it

where upside down it touches down on the fixture of the light,
as a black winged fluffy thing against the white of the wall,
do constantly as if anxious make small squealing sounds
and I wonder what it is observing

with all of the world and everything in it upside down
where the own radar of it, like at military installations that do protect,
do constantly send a signal into the heavenly realm
and I do not want to affront the small animal thing

but later the night swallows that bat
when it goes hunting for its prey.