The bat is a kid

who hasn’t quite decided

which way is up yet.

Here comes one now, out of the mango tree,

squeaking like rubber shoes

across the dark polished marble floor

of the sky.

Never quite grew up properly. Still sleeps,

head down, wrapped up and swaddled securely

like a baby.

That’s never stopped him. After birth, he learned to crawl,

then skipped the walking stage completely

and flew instead.

Perhaps a lesson we once might have learned

lies buried in those tiny infant’s eyes.

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