Gaza waits, as peace descents, snug as a hare asleep,
Aid flows, like brooks of mercy, yet the need is stark and deep.
Goats can't graze on good intentions, yea, snails need more than dew,
Two million hearts in enclave ask, what stirs the world to make do?

From Moscows fort, the dogs of war bark loud and lay their claim,
Upon the tender vales of Ukraine, stoking ancient flame,
Advantage gleams in Russian eyes, a falcon's ruthless stare,
As rabbits tremble in their burrows, caught within the glare.

Held caged, the scribbler meets the longer night,
His words, his might, bound like a hound, in sight,
Awaiting dawn or justice's gentle call,
Our troubadour confined, yet stands tall.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur