If you are at all inclined
To take walks outside
In the early evening
You cannot speak about these insects
In the singular
Because to do so
Would be to speak
In the abstract only
All will be well
If you keep walking
But should you pause
Briefly
Or sit on a park bench
They will appear
A few at a time
Until there is
A swarm of them
Trying to feed on you
Their single-mindedness
And persistence
Is admirable
You swat at them
Maybe you kill one
Or she just drops
In air
Completely out of sight
In the most perplexing
Of evasive actions
Only to reappear
In a few seconds
Feeding on your leg or arm
Resistance is futile
In time you yield the field
And the battle is theirs.
They will appear A few at a time Until there is A swarm of them... That's just the situation, wherever there is trees and weed and waters... Have to give up everything to them in summer~
Raymond, those of us who mossies love don't love them.++10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Perhaps the only life form I feel no remorse for killing.
Without doubt you are absolutely correct, Kelly.