Year End

The beat goes on no matter what we do.
Tomorrow keeps on following today.
Supposing we recover and get through
catastrophes that press on us, we may
be certain new emergencies will rise,
predictable, erupting in surprise,
demanding smart response or dreadful fee,
and modifying paths for you and me.

It’s been an awful year. Our politics
have bottomed. Public health is at its worst.
We’re threatened like a species climate-cursed.
We harbor hope, I guess, about a fix –
For we expect a baby, fewer dead,
and I’ve a neighbor planning to be wed.

This entry was posted in Civics, Coronaverse, Health, Philosophy, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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