Bugs of June

remember the bugs of June?

those first sweltering summer evenings
our flat-lander family of eight
took refuge behind screen-doors
the terrifying pitch-black wilderness beyond

deep-wood baritone frog ribbits
and trilling crickets
phantom mule-deer with glowing eyes
occupied the shadows

star infernos peppered the black sky
through fractal oak and scattered pine

and slowly they gathered

hidden and burrowed by day
and attracted to the evening kitchen glow
their multitude came at night
creatures of ancient reverence and science fiction

junebugs
scarab beetle cousins to those of Egyptian myth
they grapple-hooked to the sliding screen door
that separated us from their frightful evil
by one, in twos, then in scores

unlucky family members caught outside
found the bugs velcro-fastened to shirt or hair
not easily removed by scream nor pluck nor finger-flick
they cautioned with an alien-hiss
and would zap you to dust if you did not take heed

dinner, homework, laundry, TV
they watched our ordinary business
and we watched theirs

clinical and passive
sinister and scheming
they hung on the flimsy screen
in plague-worthy numbers

they were our nightly audience
and they studied us with purpose

paddled antennas rose with machine-like precision
that curiously clicked into place
they probed the kitchen and dining room
examined the furniture and appliances
and scanned our unsuspecting bodies for secrets

we ate, studied, worked, and relaxed
and fed them electromagnetic disturbances we unwittingly provided
they calculated unknowable quantities

night after night
exposed and violated
our family’s energy and dignity
were depleted by levels only junebugs know

after several long hours
suddenly detecting a change in the force
they twitched nervously as their work was complete

a message from their overlord was received through the ether
and each bug fed its gathered data to the mothership
tethered deep in the tangled woods of the creek

satisfied, each bug slowly opened the smooth metallic shield
of curiously striped carapace on its back
slowly revealing a mess of feathery, diaphanous fabric
that unfurled and reorganized
to become wings that erupted into a flurry of motion

heavy, ungainly bodies
that shouldn’t take flight
struggled at lift-off
and soundlessly pushed themselves into the night

nearly gone now
they visit infrequently
diminished like the once boisterous cacophony in the night

remember the bugs of June?