Nocturnal Visitor

Last night as I lay in my bed

With thoughts of dreaming in my head

I heard anon the gentle bumping

Of something at my window thumping.

I asked my husband beside me,

“Forsooth, my love, what could that be?”

(It’s only late at night when I talk like that.)

He said, “I know not, but I think it’s a bat.

A crazy bat who is coming for thee.”

I flew to the window and peeked to see.

I saw not bat, nor skunk, nor crow.

I didn’t see even a hint of snow.

But there in the shadows, still as could be,

I saw two eyes peering straight at me.

Just one small frog—such a tiny sight—

That had given me such a giant fright.

My newfound friend thumped through the night

But he was gone with dawn’s first light

And bleary-eyed, I hate to say,

I still have many words to write today.