Upon the horns of coming year, a shroud doth twist and stand,
Checklist in hand, the finance chieftains brace gainst shifting sand.
As weaving wyrd spins frugal fates, they seek to understand,
In sea of uncertainty, they, as skippers, must command.

Once, 'twas hoped, by Gungnir's point, stability would reign,
A longing, deep as Mimir's well to see calm seas again.
Investors, in their mead-halls, wait with hearts a-bristle, dreading,
With Odin's patience holding fast to see the scales un-wedding.

There in a fortress, known as Juul, a battle raged, 'twas testing,
Held at bay was bankruptcy, by gilded shields' investing.
With Hyatt's heir and raider bold, their coins did find a purpose,
Now cries of foul echo loud, in saga far from wordless.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur