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Bats at 37

When bats at 37 take to flight,
At a quarter past four
Or, whatever time Accra heralds the night,

When bats at 37 take to flight,
For me, there's not a more beautiful sight
Of creatures, imagined or real,
That lay claim to these glorious skies.

When bats at 37 take to flight,
With fevered screeches that punctuate the night
When by sheer numbers they darken the skies
And, below, people of a superstitious disposition
Can not be bothered,
I am reminded that,
Given enough time all things cease to be strange.

When bats at 37 take to flight,
Devoid of vibrant plumes unlike most things that fly,
Rising like Legion and the hordes of hell,
In defiance of extermination attempts,
Above the Hospital in elusive figurativeness,
Haphazardly, in sync, over constipated traffic
There is not a doubt who owns the peppered night.

When bats at 37 take to flight;

Accra, stay by plan.

Chale, Accra stay, by plan...

*****November 29, 2017*****

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Colourless God,
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Colourless God,
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Let's paint him in our kind.

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Colourless God
🤔 — A (@poetra_asantewa) February 14, 2016
We were having a discussion on twitter when Poetra tweeted this and I wrote this in reply