Covid’s Summer

Last year’s summer was an insult to summers,

But a feather on Covid’s cap to have made a season as proud as summer,

The laughing stock of seasonal jokes,

For people had to hide and heed the warnings of Covid’s wrath.

A three-nipple junkyard with a hankering for death,

That was last year's summer in summary.

Like an ancient goddess long deprived of her full moon sacrifice,

Corona connived with summer to rampage all corners of the earth,

Like angry loan collectors with too many customers.

But corona was owed nothing and summer owed many.

Summer was yet to deliver on happy hot sunshine,

Fun-filled follies it was famous for.

Summer owed us, so this year. This year,

We shall arrest summer and squeeze out all the joy it has to offer,

For Covid is finally contained.