Mosquitoes

The buzzing bug is waiting outside,
For when I’m almost asleep in the middle of the night,
Then it will arrive,

Droning smugly along,
Farewell to my slumber,
There is now a mosquito on the run.

Hovering just above my face,
Loud, intrusive, taking up too much space,
Trying to slap it when it lands on my juicy arm,
It’s pointy proboscis poking for blood.

I get that their larvae might be useful to fish,
But to me they’re only an annoying thing to squish.
I get that they pollinate flowers and recycle,
But bees do the same and they don’t make me want to pull out a rifle.