By John Ogden
Of scales and heat
Sinuous snakes of wing and fire,
They march on, fly on,
Swarm through the countryside
Along their age-worn dragon-paths.
Every fifteen full season-arcs of the sun, they say,
The dragons of every land make their way
Pass in rivers to form a sea of scales
Toward the stone cathedral of the ancients
To make three rounds about the grounds
And cast three tears into the soil
For ages gone, ages yet to come
And in honor of the sacrifices that were made
On Dragon Sunday.
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John Ogden was conceived of a government form and a passing mailbox. He lives somewhere out in the woods of a rural land more akin to the fantasy realms of literature than real life, and his favorite dirt bikes will always be the broken ones.
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