When the Covid pestilence shall pass,

Like Nature’s instructive visitation,

I shall to the brim fill my glass,

And celebrate the humbling of many a nation

Whose pride of lucre and boast of arms,

Loads of gumption and lack of sense

Have through cunning low and cussedness

Brought god’s earth to this circumstance.

 

My liquor shall have a tang

Of wisdom brewed in travail.

I shall, inebriate, a spirit drink

That refurbishes a forgotten tale

Of joy in a lost connect

With root, leaf, and bumblebee,

Waters from crystal springs

Sourced in sentient ecstasy.

 

I shall laugh a laughter fearless

Of the humbled tyrants of territories

Brought low by a triumphant nothingness

More puissant than their worst cruelties.

I shall sing a song of liberation

From the swollen follies of diseased pretense;

I shall embrace the cactus and the termite heap

Who never succumb to time’s infected sense.

 

To a valley still pristine, still tender, still warm,

Still etched with strokes of creation,

I shall repair without a thought

In the naked embrace of an infant passion

Lost to the imbecile excesses of a world

Whose avarice seeks to kill the grass,

Not knowing that the grass will return

While their scythes have turned to dross.

---