Now the day has ended.

Darkness triumphs over light.

 

Deep inside the womb of a cave,

bats with paper thin wings,

hinged with claws

and hanging upside down,

begin to stir from their sleep.

 

Suddenly the flying animals,

half the size of a five pound note,

let out a hunting cry.

 

Then they flutter out of the cave,

in an up draft,

that flows like the gulf stream

and into the blackness rise.

 

They enjoy a banquet of choice insects spread out in the night sky.

 

Satiated, they fly back,

to the safety of the cave,

long before the sun wakens again.