"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Light pollution might lower mosquito survival by messing with their energy storage. This could potentially make the mosquito biting season longer and make it harder for those living in urban environments to survive the winter.
Flecks of gold and red shimmer over restless seas. Incandescent gatherings illuminating the horizon as you throw yourself to the mercies of the wind. Your
Clouds of colour sail on ocean winds, dancing over dunes like burnished memories of distant, verdant lands. Flying, dying, flying, dying. The promise of return
Tiny flecks of red dance across artificial rivers of powdered grain, their movements halted only by the confusing steps of a familiar other. The speed
A sharp aroma seeps across the sky, You scurry to its source; Working quickly to carefully craft A sustaining sphere of pungent spice. With cargo
You glide across your silky precipice, Enticed by spasms at the edges of your kingdom; You see nothing, Just a loose thread caught in the
Walking backwards we follow Your trail of malevolence. Random doodles scrawled across the Loose soil lead us back to your nest, Where empty sacs of
Emerging from my host now fully grown, I test my twisted wings on freedom short; Then start my search for your sweet pheromone, And spy
These parasitic insect pests, Crave sanctuary that is sanguine; As most unwelcome, picky guests, They flee the hues of gold and green. Lilac and
Do not go into artificial light, Our lamps can bring an end to fragile life; Fly, fly away into the shrouded night. Your passion