Upon the Eastern Ukrainian plains, 'neath Avdiivka's sky,
Why must Russian forces fight, and brave men sadly die?
Bakhmut's fate doth echo loud, in her tears yet unshed,
Chasing value, not of worth, but strategic instead.

In the Castle of the Crown, where wireless whispers pulse,
Elliott's kin doth weave their plot, a value to convulse.
With towers tall and fibers drawn in complex networks art,
They bind the strings of commerce, to magnify their part.

Of climate kin, a joyous note, sounds in the gales above,
Renewables in abundant growth, a tale the heavens love.
O'erspilling cups of sun and wind, the costs they do decrease,
Promising a greener path, for all to live in peace.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur