Otis reaps, and Mexico moans, a wailing sea,
Troops in garb, aid to bear so solemnly.
Acapulco, fair town, trembles, yet stands tall,
We graft to heal, or else we risk the fall.

In the city street, a pulsing marketplace,
Stocks are chosen, like hounds in frantic race.
The columnists decree, their dance unfolds,
In this split world of bearish and of bold.

From Gaza, grim shadows threaten day's light,
Hamas, like wolves, stirs restless in the night.
Taking hostages, a brazen serpent's bite,
All grieve, we ponder on this sorrowful sight.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur