’Twas the night before 2100, when all through our zooms
Not a creature was stirring, not even sounds from our incoming email notification tunes;
Our out of office emails were set with auto reply by care.
In hopes that in the New Year, our work would no longer be there;
Feminist advocates were nestled all snug in their beds,
With visions of long term, core, unrestricted funding dancing in their heads;
And program officers in their PJs, and I in my Black Lives Matters nightcap,
We’re just settling down for a long awaited and much needed nap;