(a villanelle)

Hail, 11-dehydrocorticosterone,
Savior, healer, comforter, and guide.
With my body I thee worship... cortisone.

When life degenerates to bone-on-bone,
When pain and torment cannot be denied,
Hail, 11-dehydrocorticosterone.

In our agonies, we jointly raise a groan
When every nexus, ligature and seam is tried.
With our bodies we thee worship... cortisone.

Ankle anguish, hip horror, the steady drone
Of gnarled knee, foot, hand we cannot hide,
Hail, 11-dehydrocorticosterone.

You hearken to the limping runner’s moan.
You resurrect him. You restore his stride!
With his body he thee worships... cortisone.

Thou sweet adrenal gland, steroid hormone!
From every pinnacle and mountainside,
Hail, 11-dehydrocorticosterone.
With our bodies we thee worship... CORTISONE!