Fog
Across the pond the reaper comes
Lock your door, close the windows
Shut your gate
Build a great wall
Fog needs no key
A soft rain falls everywhere
First your neighbor, then your daughter
Who will carry your coffin from the cottage
Who is left to dig your grave.
The Coffin Train
Hear the whistle blow as it rambles thru the land.
From the Pacific shore to the breaking waves of Maine
From Seattle, to Santa Fe, on to Waterloo
Trudging up the Wabash peaks
Across flowing fields of wheat
Over the Mississippi’s great water
Up the Adirondacks to Lake Placid
The Quebecois too.
Mohawk, Arab and Jew
No first class, everyone has a seat
No return ticket , one destination
Boarding now for the COVID train
A pine Pullman awaits you.