the messenger bats

her pond, the last day i saw her.

the 3 backyard bats are out early tonight,

flitting in front of the chunk of a moon.

I hear the high school marching band

 practicing under the lights.

i sit on the bench, watching the bats,

rocking back and forth.

we buried her today.

ovarian cancer won.

she lost and we lost

and there has been a flood of tears.

the messenger bats, they promise renewal.


{The pain is done, Dear Linda. Sweet relief has come.}