The Boy and I traveled long
stopping by the cemetery
in the waning October sunshine
to visit his grandparents
(hello, Daddy)
eventually locating
our unfamiliar hostelry
near the colonial village
the hour was late
but we were not yet tired
so we walked
the timeless deserted paths
anyway
in the dim silver glow
of the waxing moon
if we hadn’t,
we’d have missed
hearing the song
what kind of bird? I wondered aloud
until the telltale skitter
overhead in a halo
of lamplight
bats
singing to one another
in the dark
loud
wild
plaintive
notes
sustained
urgent
echoing
echoing
searing the night
and my shivering heart
even so
the evensong
sent The Boy and I
heading back
locating a different path
if we hadn’t
we’d have missed
the diamond-sparkling
darkling stream
under brick archways
a beautiful sight
a beautiful night
despite the chill
spirits so still
when The Boy and I
traveled long
*******
with thanks to the Two Writing Teachers community
for the weekly Slice of Life sharing
and to the bats
for their moonlight melody
and to The Boy
a constant joy
lit bits and pieces 
Your poem was pure joy tantalizing my senses with your bat song melody and diamond sparkling darkling stream. How lucky to share this experience with your son. 🙂
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The walk sounds perfect for October. I like the visual appearance of the poem, which creates a path on the page. The single word lines are like stepping stones we traverse slowly, tentatively.
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Your simple walk unearths such beauty – in spirit, in song, in sight, in stillness. That’s a work of beauty in the photo, those bricks! I love the time together, the wondering about the song. Batsong. Sort of a bird, but not. With your love of all things birds, such a signature October spooky feel!
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What struck me most was the contrast between visiting a grandfather vs. a father in a cemetery. How poignant! It almost brought me to tears. The significance of the bat sounds points to a desire to connect even more viscerally with this place and time–when the bridge of time has altered your connection to the past, present and future. Thanks for sharing!
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This is so lovely and I think maybe my favorite part is your ending dedication.
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This poem is a gift, Fran. I love the way you’ve played with words and sounds here. “Even so / the evensong.” – was the vision of those two lines on purpose? Either way, it was beautiful.
And I love the way one happenstance choice leads to the opening of a new experience: the bats, the streams, the whole evening seems like it was an ode to openness: to life, to wonder.
Just gorgeous. And now, I’m going to make it a point to look up batsongs so I can her something close to what you heard.
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I’ve long loved the word “happenstance” you used here in your reply, Lainie – the road taken makes all the difference (less traveled by or not – sorry, Frost!). “Even so/the evensong” kind of happened as I was thinking about the batsong, the loud birdlike singing in the evening, such an unexpected sound. “Evensong” came immediately to mind. I added “even so” after some revision – it was all sound, sound, sound. Words playing in my head. I looked up batsong clips and some are slowed down – there are some, however, which aren’t. I so wish had a recording of the ones I heard…but thought it best not to tarry, even in my awe!
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