Dusk

Last night, I saw a cloud of bats swooping through dusk. I ran outside to check things out and as we closed in on each other, I understood they weren't bats at all.

They were dragon flies - huge, whirring things - that swirled around my head, so thick I stood in their shadow. I had never witnessed a swarm? herd? flock? of dragonflies before, and my Missouri mule mind wouldn't accept the image. It insisted on being tricked, they must be bats, I live on the prairie and open water was miles away, no water bugs here.

I opened my arms wide and a few astral travelers stopped for a breather. They perched up and down my arms and, like their tribe? gang? murder? still faced the weakening southern sun.
Yep, dragonflies for sure. The cloud over me thinned, and its shadow followed over the garden, across the pens and disappeared into the tall prairie grass across my fence.

My new friends left me and trailed after their companions. It was probably for the best