Anyone following my blog will know that my mum passed away on Wednesday, August 26. The worst part now is not being able to pick up the phone and speak to her. I feel this big empty space. My writing has veered between dark places and nothing, up and down. It has probably been a bit heavy and on the bleak side. So, even though it can be more interesting to write fiction about dark subjects and imagine characters in bad or surreal situations (I guess that is why some actors prefer to play bad guys cos you can take your imagination to crazy places), today I wrote about bats instead. Nature is a healing place. Have a cool Wednesday.
Bats
Balancing
the curve,
dark
flits of striking wings
dip low
to fan out,
riding the
tugging wind.
A quiet
bunch, so still,
hangs
eerily suspended
like plastic
on elastic,
but you
can’t pull it back.
Looping under
bridges,
a group
swoops and soars
to surf
the scooping air
on
invisible boards.
Their
invisible dances
exit on
a haphazard line
of
chattering, high-
pitched letters
to the moon.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, September 30, 2020
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