Santa Claus doesn’t need a shot.
From the Virus, he’s immune.
So, you better get ready– Like it or Not!—
Santa will be here soon.
Santa Claus doesn’t need a shot.
From the Virus, he’s immune.
So, you better get ready– Like it or Not!—
Santa will be here soon.
2800 new deaths occurred.
All these lives were lost.
COVID exacts a terrible price.
Its toll is a wrenching cost.
The fleas:
they are ubiquitous.
For cats:
they are iniquitous.
The forecast is for showers today.
They’ll be followed by rain.
Then we’ll have some broken clouds.
Then we’ll have more rain.
The Mukilteo Ferry will be
moving on down the block.
It’s packing up bag and baggage and
it’ll sail from another dock.
The Virus is an endless curse.
The path it charts gets ever worse.
Its course is marked with grief and woe.
Yet, still—mankind has far to go.
I’ve switched off the news on Radio.
I’ve turned off my TV.
Knowing the Stuff that’s going on
is becoming the Death of Me.
They say you need a COVID Bubble
where you feel safe from harm,
where you’re not all the time on guard,
watchful for ev’ry alarm.
I look out on my quiet street
to the homes in the cul de sac.
My neighbors move about their day,
going forth and back.
We’re socially distanced, faces masked,
all compliant, doing as asked,
trying to stay away from trouble….
Maybe this is my COVID Bubble.
I call a friend each morning
just to check that she’s all right—
a brief contact to let me know
she made it through the night.
There’s another vaccine ready.
It’s approved by the FDA.
Now two vaccines are coming.
Feels like hope is on the way.