A Bat
In Bangladesh
He got in through the mesh.
It was a bat
A bat rolled up in a mat.
Was he dead or just in bed?
Estivating or maybe meditating,
He looked mummified.
I had to clarify.
He was quiet;
Too long on a diet.
No mosquito no fly
had passed by
while he took his rest
in that comfy nest.
I picked him up.
He felt cold.
He looked old.
I took him up on the roof
and, just for fun,
put him in the sun
to soak up the rays
of that equatorial day.
Slowly he woke.
I gave him a poke.
Crawling on little bat feet,
far up from the street
up there on the roof,
and then…….poof
He was in the air
without a care,
Flying in circles around me,
flapping his wings mightily.
I was with him entirely.
Just a couple of feet off the ground
he flew round and round
round and round
with a flapping sound.
He got his bearing.
I was just staring.
He shot straight out.
I tried to shout,
“Hey, you were a wreck
And now you are just a speck!”
Ricker Winsor