Take a strand of RNA,
tie a knot
And make a wish,
count phases of the moon.
Pray nothing
pernicious comes this way soon,
Or if it should then
it doesn’t draw your lot.
One hundred years
after the Somme ended,
Exercise Cygnus
played H2N2
On the gaming table:
Only, it’s not flu
But coronavirus that’s
descended.
It seems predictions
were catastrophic,
So, were noted and
quietly filed away,
Until came the
contagion, came the day
For the accounting of
the mounting sick.
Austerity, efficiency,
not fate
Has proved “just in time”
is far, far too late.
Dave Alton
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