I Never be Clever

Intercity to France, a pandemic spreading quick;
yet nonchalance remains, especially with the
young.  It is the energy of youth, though
immortality is impossible.
What place is exempt from crisis? Lagos? Kiev?
East of the sun, west of the moon, nary a place
remains sans infection, free of fear.

So some bring to life’s table arrogance, a hefty slab;
yet it does nothing to stop what seems like, at times,
the ire of nature.  Better to clear away the lack of
humility, that human pride which is intrinsic.
Mother Nature will have her way at any rate.
This is novel virus, vicious germ.  Victory
perhaps?  Perhaps not total victory.
And any human cocksureness
need not be a pleasant taste.

Eagles soar, as do other birds in atmospheric
ease.  Yet what can cure unbridled pride?
Is there any panacea? Maybe terror? 
No planes in the sky to be seen?
A plea, or wishful thinking?


21 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
4-2-20

Requirements:
—Title must be: "I never be clever"
—Intercity to France
—impossible
—birds
—no planes in the sky to be seen