My poor old manager is off work, ill
He suffered some life-threatening blood clots
Two other members of our team are still
Absent, one with depression, but one’s got
Better and might appear soon. Such a lot
To do, so few of us to do it, that
It’s been a strain; I’ve found it hard to slot
In creative activity. Felt flat
In the evenings. I’ve written things, or sat
Hoping to write, but can’t quite get that thrill
From producing my best, for I am not
At my best, my most alert, when, off pat
I can come up with quality; I fill
My time and page as I can, or cannot
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