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