by Philip Kitcher

Under the shelves of PPE
The hospital dofficer stands.
We tremble with delight to see
The bounty in her hands.

Each day she teaches us to don
Our masks, and how to doff.
She helps us while we put them on
And when we take them off.

She checks supplies and throws out fakes
(Defective masks abound).
Gently she fixes our mistakes
To keep us safe and sound.

Hail mistress of the well-worn gown!
We offer up our praise.
Nothing can rival thy renown,
Thou guardian of our days.

With swelling hearts we lift to thee
Our hymn of gratitude.
(Also, of course, you’re there to see
The hospital’s not sued.)