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per amica silentia lunae

or, across the ferny brae with the evil voodoo celt

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a poem and a haiku for Bracken Cave
Bracken Cave, 7/9/2005

This wind is from wings, not weather;
Gently bushing our faces as we sit entranced,
Riveted on the vortex spinning before us-
Whirl of small bodies, backlit and translucent
In the last reaching rays of the sunset.
They stream unceasing from the cave mouth
With a surf-sound, the flutter of a myriad wings;
Spiral up, then flow off in a winding line,
Undulating through the air, a Chinese dragon
Made of millions of small, hungry hunters.
The wonder breaks over us in waves, fills
Our hearts, steals our words and voices; all
The figures and statistics dissolve in this:
A whispering storm of bats pouring up
From a sinkhole in the summer nightfall.

- 7/29/2005

Crescent moon hanging,
We leave the cave to darkness-
The bats still pour forth.


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I would love to go to Bracken Cave some day. A few years ago I used to regularly go spelunking and would occasionaly see close up (but never disturb) a nice sized colony of small common brown bats. I wish BCI had a wall calendar for sale but they never do.

Yeah, a calendar would be cool. Have you suggested it to them?

I have indeed suggested it to them. They never replyed to my suggestion though and they still don't have one.

Speaking of bats, we saw one of your minions flying around Cabela's the other weekend. It was very cute but I do hope he/she found a way out!

Thank you for posting this -- heck, thank you again for posting your poetry in general. It reminds me how fluid poetry can be.

What a lovely haunting image. Thank you.
(on a side note - yay! about Molly)

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