As Siemens weaves her tale of health and gain,
Her coffers shrink, the virus tests refrain.
Yet steadfast she, her outlook held in rein,
Despite the dulcet song of profit's wane.

The healing art in ether takes its stride,
A silver lining in pandemic's tide.
And whilst we care, the clover fields abide,
As less our footprint strides the world's wide side.

From Eastern lands, a steel horse stampede flows,
As Russia feeds the dragon's fiery throes.
With Western scorn, in serpentine repose,
The eastward winds of commerce deftly blow.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur