THE LAST MINUTES OF DUSK WHERE THE BAT DISPERSES INTO THE SKY

The beloved said there was a bat, and that I should look. But I could not see it at first. Then, against the late dusk sky, in the last minutes of dusk as it learned and then knew how to be night, I noticed it. Fluttering, going, from between large houses lit by soft yellow electrical lights. Cool grey bricks. A tennis court, down some along a hillside, but of course, level. Inside those places, those abodes, people work and think and dream and cook and live. Outside, not too far, is some wild land. There are coyotes there, families and groups of them. The male and female coyote, if all goes well, stay together and mate for life. The children stay in dens, well hidden. Coyotes are perhaps the most resilient creatures around. They have survived fire, gunshot, poison, and so on. It is said, through my research, that they will eat whatever is available, become vegetarian if necessary, - and what’s more, if there species is threatened, might procreate even more progeny. Oh, there is nothing lurid about the night and the thought of them. What is a bat next to a coyote? But I didn’t see a coyote, and always report the truth. So the bat, - it was there, and it dipped and dipped and found its way, - going into that late aforementioned dusk, the last minutes of dusk. I looked at. It went away, into what was then practically the night. Click, then night. No bat. Just a memory. And then some words after. And what else? Little lights. And street lights. Streams of cars. The humidity. Thoughts of past years. Sometimes anyhow. Yes sometimes anyhow.

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