It hides in its roost
by a stream in the day.
The moths gather in the gloom.
Sonar is a society norm
among those winged hunters.
Detecting their prey with pin-point
proficiency in the dark.
The moths flutter through the leaves.
The long-eared hunter takes off,
no radar to guide it.
Just the rush and thrum
of a moth's wing-beat
can guide it on course.
