Dragon Fire  

At first you don't want to touch the dragon
Instead you squint through fetid bog gas and humid ferns
Mistake that slumbering ferocity for the stony top
Of a far and distant hill
Until a scale catches the smoldering sun
And winks at you

Moving closer, detail begin to emerge
Ferns make way to budding dandelions
Bogs to the light green of newborn dewy grass
And the object on the hill looms strange and wondrous

Now you can make out something metallic that breathes
Inhaling fresh air on that distant rise
And exhaling it
It must be a magician exhaling
Out in a smooth, steady stream of silver smoke
Energy stepping on the wind
You are intrigued

Setting foot to hill the stiff old bog-boots you once had
Disintegrate into pliable sandals of leather
Tendrils of sweet pea circling your bared legs

You see now that magician on the hill is a dragon
Scales a gentle twisting of shiny color
Purple, turquoise, magenta hues dancing like sprites
On the back of the leviathan

Now you can make out the tail
Wrapped contentedly around its graceful mass
Like a cat at rest
The curve of its neck almost feline in its bonelessness
Its wings rustle like branches not yet burst into life
With every breath it continues the wondrous alchemy
Flow of oxygen into a sea of silver trout pushing upward
It's then you want to touch it

Touch it to feel the cool wet scales
Glide your fingers against the shiny gems of armor
Perhaps to find an in, a soft spot
A way towards its beginning and
End where the alchemy occurs
You want to know how
And you want to breathe it in

Now you're atop the hill
And the dragon looms above and beyond
Stepping forward in a dress of daffodils and clover
You reach out with a hand
A finger and a thumb
A keen in your throat
That shrills into song as you reach for its snout

The dragon shivers
Breathes in your spring scent
Opens its scaly lids to golden orbs of wonder

You touch

© 2006 Delvina Greig