Of chariots oft come the tell of gain,
In great Europa's leafy, trodden terrain.
As umber hares with bounding leaps of joy,
So carriages find growth from shortage's wane.

Whilst Orsted, likened to a aging hound,
Faces a fall on soil of Yank's own ground.
Supply and rate, such nipping dogs of strife,
May cause a bleat of loss, in billions found.

Now Ukraine's drone, a hawk in evening's shroud,
Strikes deep in bear's own land, bold and loud.
And Moscow, stung, sends forth a cloud of wrath,
Like snail-shelled missiles toward the sunlit crowd.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur