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They only come out at night

I have gone at dusk and stood in the round at road's end, where trees give way to open sky. And, eyes upward, I've trailed the flitting and the fleeting of one bat, and another, and another, dark against the still-lit sky, looping, circling, feasting. And my feet have followed, too, and as they danced above so I danced below, and though I was prey to the ones they were predator to and I envied them their flight, the air was cool and my step was light and I could swear I had the greater fun.

August 16, 2002 12:01 AM

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