Oh, I watched them all from our porch, my boy. Birds flap with such strong chest muscle, like a drumbeat. Insects, like dragonflies, their wings flicker so fast you can't see, like a humming top. Bats… they are clumsy dancers in the dusk, their skin-wings catching the air with a jerky grab.
My old eyes saw this best while waiting for sunrise on my bike—the early birds, then the moths fleeing my headlight, and finally the bats tumbling home as I started my deliveries. Each had its own way through our morning mist.
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