The Bat

By day the bat is cousin to the mouse.
He likes the attic of an aging house.

His fingers make a hat about his head.
His pulse beat is so slow we think him dead.

He loops in crazy figures half the night
Among the trees that face the corner light.

But when he brushes up against a screen,
We are afraid of what our eyes have seen:

For something is amiss or out of place
When mice with wings can wear a human face.

by Theodore Roethke

Comments (2)

The Land of Dreams is better far Above the light of the morning star.'...wonderful conversational poem with rhyming words- 10++++
This poem leads me to believe his mother has died and he dreams of her on the other side. He believes it is a better place. Excellent poem.