Member-only story
Poetry
A Visit From St. COVID-19
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore
Author’s note: I wrote this last year and had expected it would be irrelevant by now. I hope it makes you smile anyway.
’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land
The people had had all the grief they could stand;
The stockings were empty for what was the use?
The wishing and hoping were worse than abuse;
The children were nestled apart from their grands,
Fearful us old folks would die at their hands;
I put on my flannels and donned my c-pap,
Trusting I’d wake from my long winter’s nap.
When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
I threw on my mask, through the blinds took a peek,
(I hadn’t been out of the house in a week).
The climate had changed, so the snow wasn’t there,
(Okay, we’re in Florida, just to be fair)
But what did I see that caused me to stare?
It wasn’t a sleigh, there were no reindeer there.
