Beneath the great sky's glowing damp,
Now heat lamps bear less than a lamp's stamp.
New designs rise, chic as a doe,
A backyard's charm in evening's glow.

Once Martin King stood, cried his dream,
For fair pay and jobs, in sunlight's beam.
Equality sought through coin and craft,
An unfinished dream on history's raft.

Doth insurance lie prone 'fore nature's ire?
Frets of catastrophes, ever dire.
Coins in billions, counted 'gainst the storm,
In a spinning world, far from norm.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur