Goddess, Kween, Superhero, Mosquito

Majestic on the wing,
Gaia’s caped, capering crusader,
I swoop in with disease—
from the Ross River to you—
with compliments of the season.

O lowly human, stuck to the ground—
darest thou to swat?
To kill me is regicide—deicide!—
and you shall incur
the wrath.

Your kind needs fierce control:
curbing, culling.
Populations bubbled over,
festered, burst.
You jeopardise, now, All Things.