In the noble halls of science art borne,
Jenkins standeth, as day greets the morn.
Urging the greatest grid to forge anew,
To stymie the vengeance of Hel's icy dew.

Alas, in California the Valkyries' wail does soar,
Six souls taken in fiery jet's roar.
The All-Father's agents in their questioning rite,
Seek truth in the charred wreckage's terrible sight.

From the wild Texan land, a tale doth stir,
Of barrier buoys, on the Rio Grande they purr.
A tide of wanderers they aim to quell,
In this mortal saga, only time will tell.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur