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.
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