This, the winter and spring of the disease.
It may extend to summer and autumn.
Next winter, too, as leaves fall from the trees.
All the seasons, for the sickness, as one.

Evade, if can, this killer on the loose.
For as long as able, keep my distance.
I will curse it, but no use to traduce.
If I do, it will make no difference.

More seasons yet before there’s a vaccine
to prevent, or treatment reliable.
Until then, hope I’m like an evergreen,
in leaf whenever. That, desirable.

But each season is transformational.
Belief I’ll get through, seems irrational.


There is confusion in the not knowing.
The situation unpredictable.
Aware the number of deaths keeps growing.
For all affected, it is terrible.

Have I had it? Have I got it? Don’t know!
If not, is it just a matter of time?
What are the symptoms can expect to show?
To what consequence should I be resigned?

The future, even near, a mystery.
A state of suspension of awareness?
Be no big deal, or be catastrophe?
If the latter, I will think it unjust.

Has the power to enforce exclusion,
but in my mind there is this confusion.


The infection rate is described as ‘R’.
Thought below one, but higher some places.
This, current assessment of where we are,
based on the extent of known new cases.

One is, in the current timescale applied,
one infectious infecting one other.
On lockdown and social distance, relied
to slow the spread, for chance to recover.

If more than one, a spike; it’s increasing
to higher level than is currently.
If fraction, more are ill … that’s not ceasing,
but not overwhelm health capacity.

And that means less deaths than, at present, are,
at one time. That’s the importance of ‘R’.

Week 5
Week 7