“Dragons Still Cry”

Moonlight eases itself into my bones,
Taxing my spirit with fresh desires to wield my
Sword and slay the green dragons
That lay asleep during the western sun that burns
Twelve long hours—

They stir and flip open their great big green eyes,
Flare their nose and shine bright to my fear as the
Moon glints and glitters upon their scales
Of silver gray—

Hoops of smoke rise to the stars and circle around
Like twilight orbs…

I watch my dragons and go into my mode of
Defense but they water my feet with their ethereal tears;
So I toss my stick-sword and cry with them—

Loneliness is a garden where dragons hide.