Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,
ché la diritta via era smarrita.
Inferno - Dante
In the dark wood, a muntjac barks -
a darker darkness in the shadow of trees.
Above, rooks are roosting - a canopy of cawing -
And - higher still - scimitar wings silhouetted.
'A hobby,' says Mischa.
Our silence below the cacophony of corvids
mirrors
the soundless sweep of raptor wings.
Can he see the still-opal sky
reflected
in our eyes?
We are irrelevant. He glides on.
Along the fence-line,
bats fly flitteringly fleet figures of eight
between branches and leaves
and out -
to skim above the gilding wheat.
'Soprano Pipistrelles,' says Karen
as our monitors emit rapid-fire clicks.
'SP' written on the record, '22:17.'
Blacker now - and deeper than sleep -
the trees close in
and - close by - a keening cry -
'Kee-it! Kee-it!'
We turn, seeking shapes in pitch.
'Tawny Owl,' says Juliette. 'Juvenile.'
Unseen but so near, he keeps us company.
Somewhere, away from straightforward paths,
a feathered ghost, hunts,
haunting
the moonless forest.
This is wonderful, Crone. I love how you have launched off from the Dante scene to make one of your own but where you have more company than Dante (if I remember). You have the non-human life and the humans as you survey. Atmospheric. The Latin name for the bat ties in nicely with the quote from Dante. Great inclusion of the technical and of identification of the people and the other creatures. Great images ex. the actions of the raptor and the bats.