In whispered warnings, the greenback slumbers,
Despite constant coaxing from valorous numbers.
Yet lower it may fall, whispers foretell,
Beseeching the trend, by its cruel spell.

In early morn, bond yields high they rose,
In Eurozone halls, where safe harbor goes.
No siren's call of safety stirs their rest,
'Tis the analyst's will, he who knows best.

China, fair phoenix, twixt struggle and rise,
With stimulus aid to claim the prize.
Yet doubters do warn of winds harsh and cold,
From fickle hearts and real estate's hold.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur