I love my friends. I love how images can collide and quirkily meld and be alchemized into a poem. This is a very rough draft at best. It’s daylight now, so the bats are at rest. But time for some poetry practice and to exercise my bizarre little brain.
And you two will know who you are, my bright sparks both near and far.
Angel Bat
Winged night angel
Hitching a lift, a mortal whiff
Inside this delicate
Mammalian body
Who can also fly
Answering to the
Sonic chatter. Listen!
It recalls some previous
Incarnation before the Fall.
It comes as some angelic
Call to action
Answering need or plea
A kind of soul sonar
So that those wandering
Can bump into each other at night
Bats decay so delicately
Tiny bones and voile membrane
They are mistaken for
Fairy skeleton
Proof of their existence
Transubstantiated
Fairy, angel or bat
With a swoop and squeal
A shift in their shape
Just like that!
Copyright Bee Smith 2018
Sojourning Smith 
Oh, my! This is sublime. “A kind of soul sonar/So that those wandering/Can bump into each other at night..”. Yup; I know how that feels. Thank you; thank you; thank you.
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