Bat

Five years and
One early morning ago
I awoke in distress
As a scratching plagued
The inside of my wall.
To me it seemed
That a mouse or more
Had made its home there.

My parents must know! I thought
As I crept to their room.
Dad was the only one to get up
And bravely investigate my mystery.

We lumbered back to my room
And flicked on the lights...

IT'S A BAT!!!

A shrieking comet of brown fur
R o c k e t e d
Counterclockwise above us, angry
At the addition of light to his "cave"

Now we were wide awake!
No time to think...
Grab a broom, grab a stick
Grab anything! Just don't
Let it upstairs!

I found the proper armaments
And stood in the stairway
Like a pajama clad centurion, or
The star hitter of broom-ball,
Ready for the bat to come my way,
But it was Dad who got him,
Oh he swung with exactitude,
With such unintentional grace and caught
The bat midair and
Hurled him into my bookshelves.

Delicately, Dad blinded the creature with a blanket,
Wrapped him snugly within and took him to the garage.

The sun was rising as we set him loose, and
We watched him fly away,
A little black star crawling across the morning sky.

And to this day, the mystery of his entry still remains unsolved.
The garage door had been left open, but the door
To the house was not ajar. Perhaps its childish to think,
But maybe he let himself in...