Aware of their whereabouts
we attuned to high-frequency
transmissions, espied the routine
evening leavings from the far wall.
Forty or more mustered there
decamping in ones and threes
out of the eaves
dropping like burnt rags
then sky-high in a trice
small as moths.
According to The Bat Conservancy Trust information, bats residing somewhere under the roof barge board of my daughter’s house are probably maternity roosts
The same number of words as bats for Kim's quadrille prompt: eavesdropping.
PoetryPix 
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