A herald of the static – from mountains he appears,
Vast, the shadow of his wings darkens the earth.
The wit of the wise is worsted, runs and disappears.
A father of motion seeks to replenish the dearth.
In the valley of plenty even the rich have succumb
To the havoc of this gently giant’s pale curse.
Within the beast’s cold skin, failure’s light crumb
Trail leads to the inevitable, skinny purse.
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