Golden yield, once in merry play,
Falls soft as a dove in twilight's sway.
A snail-like slide, shy of the sun's ray,
Loyal to the $2,400 boulevard's array.

Firm as a hound, gilt yield holds the day,
A rabbit in the thicket, alert but at bay.
Awaiting the morrow's inflation ballet,
Seeks insight, as morning seeks the ray.

Oil, once proud as a hawk in mid-May,
Slips, as Trump's fortunes sway.
Dark talks of the bullet's foray,
In Pennsylvania's dramatic play.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur