Of India's grain, fertile and fine,
A precious gem in the world's vine.
Its yield, by climate harsh, brought low,
A worldly woe both far and nigh, we know.

In realms of streams where tales are told,
Americans find their hearts grown cold.
For Hulu's charm, they bid adieu,
Turning to bundles, cheap and new.

With disruptions new, geopolitics entwine,
Quickly do plans seek 2024s line.
In wake of pestilence that shadow casts,
Swift must they act, to holdfast their masts.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur