One Hundred Fifty-Eighth Entry, Coronavirus Poetry Diary
In front of a wall of giant maple leaf flags, the silver-haired retired general, who will be heading up the province's vaccine distribution task force, pauses for a while, takes a close look around the conference room, and finally rests his eyes on the youngest reporter. Then he speaks in a low, firm tone,
"People are tired and some of them even say, 'Oh, my goodness! we can't carry on.' Well, guess what --each and every one of you can! Please remember this: it is not the first time in our history that we have faced these seemingly insurmountable challenges and gotten through. Our grandfathers could storm the 50-mile stretch of Normandy coast three-quarters of a century ago. Today, we definitely can stay at home, away from everybody else for just two more weeks."
no body
loves holiday gatherings
more than covid ...
I murmur to myself
and my beagle on the couch
Added: One Hundred Fifty-Ninth Entry
like E.T.
he puts forth his finger
to touch my son's ...
the maskless mall Santa
inside the giant snow globe
Added: One Hundred Sixtieth Entry, written in response to Donald Trump's conspiracy theorist Sidney Powell pick for special counsel investigating voter fraud, The Guardian, Dec. 19
Donald Trump
dragged kicking and screaming
out of the White House
a mask-free Santa Claus
in my Christmas dream
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