Dragons

Mystic sounds move slowly against the face of the cragged purple mountains. Towers of lost forgotten cities peek seductively through canopies of age old trees. Grey mists hide millennia of secrets behind veiled curtains of damp waterfalls frozen in stone and ice. I look to the south for the golden face of the warming sun. Its lethargic movements leave me shivering in this cold dampness. The first wink of multi-hued light taps on the ridge of my brow with warm paws as if begging entrance into my eyes. dark fuzzy morning listlessly surrendered night a new day aroused The beast has gone but only for the moment. Moving into the shadows of the ancient towers that hide the meretricious secrets of humanity, It settles into its cave of darkness and vanity, hidden away beneath the streets of the dead city it despises. Surrounded by comforting darkness it breathes a gentle sigh, reveling in the acrid sulfuric fragrance of its own breath. From its broken toothy lips a furnace ensues that melts the solid surface of the gems and precious metals that surround it leaving glistening reflective surfaces like polished mirrors. Furtive glances turn to long lusty stares as it looks from trinket to coin to stone and finds thousands of intense hypnotic emerald green eyes staring longingly back at it. reflective green eyes mirrored in human desire shades of jealousy Relieved for the moment as the advancing light fills me with its buttery golden radiance. I melt in to my warm blanket in constant watch. It rarely appears during daylight hours, but rarely does not mean never and if it does appear I must be ready. Lives depend on me. It ate last night, selectively, only taking two of the old ones. Likely it will rest now for a few days, perhaps a week, only to reappear as a wraith in the darkness, silhouetted against the cold, stark, indifferent moon. My only thought, to keep us alive for one more day. We have found this place of ice filled beauty as we have tried to escape the beast, but it follows us. On silent wings at night it hunts and we are its sheep, placid and defenseless. Our weapons are of no use. They do no more then tickle the creature, and in return it sneers and laughs at us through its yellow stained broken grin. So, we keep constant vigil and accept our occasional loss with reverent obedience, setting out prayer stones for those we've lost in hopes their souls will guide us through another day. rabbits in the wood scurry in to dark burrows cunning serpent waits 11/07/15