Feels like I'm mostly well now. Maybe it's safe to get back to the diet. We'll see.

The Puca


Dark the horse that flies over the silent hills,
his gallop beating through the night
like the sound of fear.
Dancing in the wheat, stallion he,
with no respect for hard work and hungry mouth,
Fences concern him not, as he crashes through
leaving more work behind.
Beware, you who walk the road at night,
for in his mad joy, he will come like the wind
and knock you into the ditch, for the sheer doing of it.
Don't forget to leave him his bit when harvest comes,
Or you will feel his ire even more.