This is the time of the biting bugs
the time when screens should go up,
doors should not be left wide open,
and attention should be paid
when wandering at dusk to view stars.
This is the time when slight flutters
on the arm may bite in the next breath,
before you can wipe it away,
before you realize it’s not just wind
moving tiny hairs against tan skin.
This is the time when day is slightly darkened,
metallic webbing stretched over glass,
light sacrificed for safety, the simple safety
netting provides some sleepers in Africa,
some lucky enough to own it.
This is the time when I remember
the treasure of walls and floors
and beds and screens and all the things
that divide our children from the death
waiting in a silent bite.