deep down in a step well
where drab green water stands in dry season
where the light is dim and diffuse
except a solitary shaft that dances against stone and murky water
but only when the sun is high
then dust motes swirl in said light
kicked up by nocturnal creatures satisfied by the darkness
because the shadows shun all that isn’t black
I hear the snap of a bat’s wing
but never see the bat that snapped it
nor who made a squeak to go with the snap
it seems like it should feel creepy
to be in a world where bright light fires only a little oval
while all the rest stays sunk in darkness
but how is my terranean world any different?
By B Gourley in India, poem, Poetry on June 25, 2018.
