by Barbara Crooker

We’ve stayed inside for sixty days
We’ve changed our habits many ways
We can’t give Mother’s Day bouquets
And now come murder hornets

We’ve washed our hands till they are sore
We’ve scrubbed the counters, mopped the floor
We’ve wiped the knob on every door
And now it’s murder hornets

We hide our mouths behind a mask
We double-think each mundane task
What else can we do now, you ask?
Look out for murder hornets

We live this life in quarantine
Away from friends who can’t be seen
We spend our days glued to a screen
And fear the murder hornets

One day restrictions will be over
But will we wander in the clover
And play a game of catch with Rover?
Hell no. Thanks, murder hornets!