Mosquitoes Suck

It is dusk 

- the final hoorah of daylight - 

the red, 

orange, 

purple 

explosion of sunset 

is 

fading.  

We sit 

on the patio 

talking, 

laughing, 

enjoying the cooler air 

of 

the early evening.  

Suddenly, 

faintly, 

we hear 

buzz-hum, 

buzz-hum, 

buzz-hum 

float 

near and around 

our ears.  

We 

swat, 

bat, 

flap 

our hands about 

interrupting 

the ebb and flow 

of 

our conversation.  

Then 

we feel 

the needle sharp 

pricks 

and 

pinches 

on our ankles, 

shoulders, 

faces.  

*Slap*  

*Splat*  

With bloody palms 

we bolt 

into the house 

declaring, 

"Mosquitoes suck!"

©2011, Bridget Magee