Out is the Full Moon

When I meet thereat,

Midst my midnight croon,

My companionable solitary Bat

I pause to poorly wonder

Where his companions are.

Are they torn asunder,

Only to meet veadar?

Or my solitary diplomat

For this moon’s Suhur.

My ethereal, nightly, aristocrat

Helping me to endure?

Before I could ask,

In all sincerity

Regarding his task,

He gave charity

Singing first a tune,

Two sharp notes

Of exuberant boon,

Then embraced a moonly coat.

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Read the backstory for this poem here.