Seems I’m becoming the neighborhood wild one,

unkempt, bedraggled, living out of pile and box,

a two-legged more attuned with the four and winged,

becoming something I can’t yet recognize,

likely to speak a language closer to the birds and loping raccoons

than the stuff that’s tangled my brain until now.

Night walks are introducing those I live with,

swooping bats among them.

There’s lots of soft chatter out there…