In market's loom, a woeful tale,
The FTSE fell, and fortunes pale,
For Fed hath ceased its rate to raise,
Yet twice more may, in coming days.

A hawkish pause, though rate doth stall,
The oil doth inch, and gains enthrall,
A floor for dollar, wind 'gainst sail,
Commodity markets bear the hail.

From distant shores, in Orient's keep,
A flagging strength doth make men weep,
As China cuts rates down, to hold,
The trembling hands of fortune gold.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur