The bats waft up From the musty darkness like wafers Of cardboard ash rising From a bonfire. The sun sinks behind us In a steep arc. As fireflies float between trees Blinking their inscrutable Rubato.
More bats stream out Riding the warm halitosis of The cave.
Their batting wings Shake down water And stir the air. Amidst the encircling Chorale of crickets. The unexpected daylight Of our flashlights clears the air. In their sockets Scanning the branches and Hanging roots for the telltale Slither. But only the shadows move With the shifting light.