Upon gold's stead, as the Fed's word is bided,
As goats gazes upon the high mead, riveted.
A riddle lies in clues, futures divided,
Await the morrow, secrets enlivened.

A snail's trail upon the leaf of green,
Euro's strength wilted, beneath one point oh seven-seven.
Rabbit caught in a trap, a scene unseen,
Two dawn sessions yet, the path to heaven.

Brent the hare leaps oer the barrel,
Above the ninety-five mark, carried by the gale.
In Saudis words, a potential quarrel,
Dog anticipates the sustain'd cut, told in the tale.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur