The moon shines slinky, silver eye,
    Its moonbeam move and softly sigh,
They glow a soft seraphic light,
    They craft the clouds and turn them white,
        They live and die,
        They hunt on high,
They lay like cotton in the night.
        The clouds go scuddering,
        The wind sets them shuddering,
Spooked by the shadow that flies from the breeze,
    The spectres heaped up high over the seas,
        The demons that stalk,
        The gremlins that talk,
The visions that flow and forewarn the trees.
The clouds fly away like scattered debris,
They scatter and play, then abruptly they flee,
        They dance and they hide,
        The rushes they ride,
The moonlight they flay, awaiting the tide.
A hunter arises in front of the moon,
        The little clouds run faster.
His wings drive like a wild typhoon:
        They quickly flee their master.
They spring upright, prepared for flight,
    His eyes are glowing, shining bright,
        His fiery breath sets winds alight,
            The dragon flies tonight.

Through rainbow rings, he glides and sings,
    His golden wings, like age-old kings,
        Do glow and shine, a rich red wine,
    Splendiferous is their gleaming.
His wings that shred the wind, they taunt
    And scull the air until they're gaunt,
        They float serenely, 
        Soaring cleanly,
They catch the cold moon's beaming.
Through the air, they bend light streaming,
    The clouds they rend, so softly screaming,
        His flaming breath, a cauldron steaming,
            Shoots out a flaming font.
His scales of glinting copper glows,
The moonlight's tinting on them flows,
        Armour bronze and beaten gold,
            Forged in heat, now icy cold,
        Formed without a single blow,
            Orange bright and burnished yellows,
Shining out, a living pyre,
    A noise like some demonic choir ,
        A mighty shout, the clouds expire:
            The dragon's roaring grows.

His mighty head gleams gold and red,
And one by one, clouds flee ahead,
    They fly and flee his wings outspread,
    They hide and shun the flames he's shed,
        Like flares from the sun,
            In the darkness they stun,
The clouds in their flight, fleeing through night
    From fire and brimstone they've fled.
His eyes glow and gleam, like red hot coals,
    His orbits, they beam, two fiery holes,
        Like polished jewels,
            Like rubies bright,
        They burn their fuels,
            They shed their light,
Like burning tools, they fight their duels,
    The moonbeams they attempt to fight,
        The silvery streams his eyes excite,
            The dragon screams in his delight.

His nostrils, glowing embers, blow,
    A giant, smouldering smoking stack,
The mighty scorching blazes grow,
        They parch the air and turn it black,
            The sky they crack,
            The sparks attack,
His head salutes, he throws it back.
He flies, a searing, seething pyre,
    With flashes red, his breath on fire,
        A furnace brightly burning higher;
He leaves a trail of smoke and ash,
    His flames with frail raindrops clash,
        He sweeps his tail,
            Encased in mail,
        Through snow and hail,
            The thunders wail,
And watch the flames as down they smash,
    His fiery games,
        The clouds he maims,
            He burns them in to blackened trash,
                The dragon turns, his fires flash.

In spite of all his flighty glee,
    The dragon stalls, glides tiredly.
His wings are old, it was foretold
    Life would depart before decay
        His terminal goodbye
        He'd fly, still spry.
That time is nigh, at last, today.
    Content with life, prepared for death,
        He idles off his final breath.
            Flight still bold, 
                Wingbeats withhold ..... 

He's moving now, towards the sea,
    Towards the ocean, falling free,
The waves, his final watery bed,
    Cry out one last, one final plea,
The tide, which from his body fled,
    Calls out a prayer in memory,
        "This grave is his eternally."
            The dragon now is dead.
  

                                1975