I see the bats gliding on the cool winds

Catching their dusk delights

There is nothing at all to catch

It’s all there for the receiving

Every color is there, in each dayfall

The eyes are not trained to see

The dance of the Divine Pinterest

In each choreographed canvas

Yet still, it can be, when “I”

Lets “me” go in a shine

Who is the painter of black and orange

Pink and grey, lavender and brown?

Time shows itself for what it is

The silent partner of a setting sol

There is no catching… or catching up

Only soft wisps of sight 

That belong to All of Us!