grey bats

dusk brings
out the bats,
dropping down from
wherever they
spent their day,
hanging on their sticky
claws,
upside down, their thin
leathered
wings
bending with each
wide jagged
flap. chasing what?
they never travel
in a straight line,
it's almost
as if they can't see,
that they might
be blind, but they're
not.