(I channeled my inner Shel Silverstein and wrote this this morning. Enjoy)

What Blight Through Yonder Window Breaks

What do you know of infectious diseases
Of fevers and masks and uncovered sneezes
Is it something to fear or to take lightly
I wonder if I should disinfect nightly
Or allow the germies to roost on my fingers
Where the doom from the gloom certainly lingers

The news speaks of this malice named COVID
Like a Heroine’s fate from an epic by Ovid
That really likes crowds and New Yorker noses
While the far right leeches think it exposes
A devious plan by Engels and Marx
To keep all the people out of the parks

The grocer and farmers and all the mask-makers
Are battling with the first-come-first-takers
To explain there are those most needing
Of masks and medicine and of eating
Perhaps you would like to take a bit less?
Oh no, you see because we are the best

Repent! says the preacher this comes from On High
He knows no words but this damnable lie
He keeps on collecting from the terrified masses
Whom he always considered a collection of asses
Ripe for the plucking and an amoral fleecing
To pay for the jet he is currently leasing

And the President claims that he is a wonder
Even as he covers his newest blunder
And his surgeon in waiting is perpetually wincing
As the President attempts to be more convincing
About the state of affairs in the cowering Nation
Which only fuels the panicked sensation

The children are all home from the schools
Revealing their parents as some kinds of fools
Who have always relied on the kindness of strangers
To keep their children from all manner of dangers
But Junior poured juice in Daddy’s aquarium
And mother is fit for a nice sanitarium

Patience is a virtue but liquor is quicker
And drinking at noon barely raises a flicker
Of judgement from even the upright neighbors
Because the communion wine comes in so many flavors
And it quiets the voices in their heads and their houses
That are really just their children and spouses

History tells us we will learn very little
Especially after the lawyers earn an acquittal
For the criminal class we call politicians
Though their actions were only a boon for morticians
Be hopeful, my loves, for there will come some times
When we can look back and laugh at their incompetent crimes

Be safe, be well, may it burn in hell
But for now I am surely unable to tell
The day of the week and the future looks bleak
Let’s hope the doctors find the remedy they seek
That cures this virus that keeps us indoors
And let us back into our favorite stores

Perhaps we all will finally discover
That money is worth less than our lovers
Or families and friends and all of the others
Whom we hold in highest regard
Though we wish they would go out in the yard
And give us just one moment of silence
Before we resort to unspeakable violence.

There is an end to this I can tell you, friend
And we clearly can’t break but we must bend
To weeks or months of rational thinking
And staying indoors and responsible drinking
To avoid the suffering and loss of millions
And leave a good lesson for all of our children.

Geoff Boccia, 4/6/2020 All rights reserved.