The Covid Lid

Masked, half hid

Under raised hoodie and Covid lid

I walk to work on my path,

Doing the math

Of how many will die,

No matter how hard we try

To avoid the disease

Lurking in a sneeze

Lingering in the breeze;

To avoid the dearth

of mirth

On our earth;

To avoid the void,

Feeling put out, annoyed;

To avoid touching any being

While embracing being seen

By other people via screen

Talking about how they pass the time

Until the bells of evening chime.

To avoid thoughts of the casket and urn.

When will we ever learn?

We reap what we sow

Wherever we go,

there we are,

whether by foot, plane or car.

But we’re going nowhere now,

Month’s pass. There’s rust on the plough.

Damn, we’re all damned to death

By a disease that’ll take our breath.

The annihilation

Of every nation

Through the inhalation

Of our expiration.

It’s so sinister

Yet somehow sublime.

Will we divine The Divine Minister,

Or will we just keep passing the time?

4/25/20