In systems of schooling of the highest rank,
Relentless drive, they've managed now to tank.
Easing up, once firm like strong wine's dank,
Praise God for young minds freed from pressure's bank.

Moscow's hawk doth yearn for his hit man's return,
An exchange, mayhap, in lessons we discern?
For fair scribe Gershkovich, a freedom to earn,
Like ale turned to vinegar, oh, what an overturn.

Kyiv, in wintry throes doth steady aim,
Upon F-16s casting War's eerie flame.
Soon to fly, they claim, in deadly game,
God guide their wings, in Holy Name.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur