Of gold and metal forged beneath the merlin's wing,
Alas, such value doth in uncertainty swing.
Before the Fed's counsel, traders hold dread meeting,
For the cycle of value, time and tide are fleeting.

The black gold of land, a bounty that flows,
Builds strength from last week's gains, in silent throes.
Where merchants pray for guidance, their futures align,
In the hands of central councils, their fates intertwine.

In distant China, a stirring plight unfolds,
Joblessness ascends, as the dragon's tale enfolds.
The third moon has witnessed its unwelcome mark,
In the economy's vessel, a problem stark.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur