I’m going to do something a bit unusual (for me). Below are two verses of poetry I wrote over the weekend. There are lots of things I could explain about it, but just read it and tell me your observations, whatever they are. Then later on, I’ll respond.

Wheeling overhead I hear the ravens’ voices — which I have compared to the serpents’ bite: the poison, entering your ear finds its feeling — by degrees and choices ending in a fatal pagan rite. God! the rider of the storm is their true master, who have sent us reeling, diving at our eyes. A countermeasure in the form of a brazen — symbol of disaster! we looked up and the demons ceased their cries.

Update — The promised follow-up has been posted.