Exiting the Night
By living late, and sleeping late, we miss
the moment when the bats come home to roost—
when crooked shadows flit in jagged loops
that seem to seek the chimney, seem to miss,
then somehow disappear into the eaves;
and they (the bats) tuck wing to fur to wing
in crevices and roof-beam beveling,
doze through our nearly diametric lives,
invisible as brown on brown—until
today, wakened by dreams, I caught a slight,
compelling corner-glimpse in gray first light,
of sudden motion in the mostly still
new dawn; and drawn, I rose to see the flight:
our dark companions exiting the night.
Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2014 by D.R. Goodman, “Exiting the Night,” from Greed: A Confession (Able Muse Press, 2014). Poem reprinted by permission of D.R. Goodman and the publisher.