The dragons fly above the lake at midnight,
their giant wings outstretched,
silent
as they scan the waters below and
seen
only in the shadow of their
crossing,
that cold chill causing us to
shiver,
unable to sleep and stepping
outside
into the darkness of a summer’s
night,
seeking solace in ourselves;
and in the morning, the sky burns
orange and rose, red and yellow, a
fire
left by the dragons in their
leaving,
silent and unseen.
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