Red spots dot my feet,
Minor bites where slight mosquitoes creep.
The evening hours before I sleep
Are spent in swatting night’s chaotic fleet,
But every one I hit
I watch as it descends, no more to be –
Perhaps an end not fair nor fit
For what its little hurts had done to me.
Unfortunately (for me at least), I've been pretty lazy about posting poems recently. Hopefully, this one will help to get me back into a regular rhythm. Right now in Nairobi, we see a relatively high number of mosquitoes in the evenings. I occasionally look down at my feet and see a few little bites that I hadn't even felt. This poem starts with this idea of mosquitoes as annoying and troublesome creatures for us as humans, but in the end, it wonders if we truly have a right to try to reduce their population.
No comments:
Post a Comment