Nat Bats Poem by Mill Field
Nat Bats
Soft sounds and furtive rustlings of a dark night;
The bats are feeding.
Morning displays, on silent pathways,
Pale guavas, ripened custard apples,
Plump, damson-like fruits of the ashoka tree.
Soon, the ants and flies will arrive
To partake of this fortuitous largesse
And to fill the day with a ceaseless buzzing.
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4/23/2024 8:35:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
