In the heartland where countenance doth wane,
As hound to hare, Hamas doth take its toll.
"Alas!" cries Israel, in harrowed pain,
"How came such grief to our once peaceful knoll?"

More prompt than snail to verdant leaf,
'Twas autopay that caused such plight.
It lets us sleep, yet steals like thief,
In our wanton oversight.

Once more, as goat to startle's play,
War returns to Eastern sand.
A stark surprise in light of day,
Leaves all in peril, heart in hand.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur