The Dragon

There is a ridge of mountains here that tumbles into the sea and strongly resembles a sleeping dragon.  He would be about a mile and a half in length and about 400 feet tall to his shoulder as he sleeps.  Who knows how tall he is when up and about.  Would probably weigh in at 16 trillion metric tons, give or take a couple of pounds.  I worry about him waking up and looking at all the trifling crap around him.  He would likely be angry and nobody wants that.  This is the world I inhabit so you can see why I have to stay on my toes. Photo by Laurie Easton Parker.  Here is

                                                      The Dragon

                                              That slowly sloping hill,
                                                  the one with all the
                                                    knobs and crests,
                                                   tumbles to the sea.
                                            He looks utterly exhausted
                                                    and could not lay
                                               any flatter to the earth.
                                                    Gravity has done
                                                   the utmost; he will
                                                     not budge again.

                                                     But, one evening,
                                               I thought I saw a lip curl
                                                 on that supine snout.
                                               Did I hear a low rumble,
                                          the very beginning of a roar?
                                                   I certainly caught
                                                    a whiff of smoke
                                              from a cavernous nostril.
                                                Were he to be roused
                                               from an eon of slumber
                                             his wrath would be titanic.
                                              He would look about him
                                                    and he would see
                                                   the detritus of man
                                               and all his trifling debris.
                                                    He would demand
                                                         to know why
                                                     and we would be
                                                          speechless.

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