Sometimes I kid a touch,
But this time I kid you not.
We stood outside at dusk,
And we waited, and we watched.
A little squeaking in the hush,
Then bats emerged from our loft.
…
We stopped counting as such, at 103.
That’s really a bit much, even for me.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 28th, 2010 at 9:45 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
Both comments and pings are currently closed.