Snapdragon Dance

Papery feathers strain to take wing. Frills ruffle, mythic masks gnash at the air beautifully belligerent. Plucked, they dally daily between the surfaces of legend, and the finery of a silk-stockinged sentience. Diaphanous stems are necks-laced below an open-mouth in full quaff pastel beaks revealing a mute floral clamor. Flame refined dragon-hearted blooms they consume the oxygen of our domestic awe. Pepper us with a salty serpent presence. Lightweight and splashily bearded we see them gambol on the tippy-toe of a metaphor. When within a circle of sunlight we place them, they may fire-dance with a scolding snippiness goading all and sundry with a dragons gimlet gaze.