On the ramparts of Pamplona
against all odds/against all evens
consumed by the right to risk a life
for economic growth and ancillary
goods manufactured overseas
out of domestic foolish golds
just like the later limping saint
we were laid low by a cannonball—
ours bizarrely christened Covid.

It’s been another year of convalescence 
of injured honor and days stretched out
to the point of tearing
by tediums and bedsores
down the back of our active, aching pride.

Lessons still we’re learning
the conversion continues
in our cautious parties of return
flirting dangerously with “normal”.

A year like no other
the same as all the rest
one long chalkboard filled with teachings
we ought to copy down for further study
before it all gets wiped off tonight
making room for tomorrow’s class.