It’s mid-spring in Columbus, a bit chilly at times, rainy, windy, then sunny and calm. The power of the earth is evident. It’s a power we respect, the beauty of which we cherish. It could be called dragon power.
Seven dragons cross the sky
their breath is hot against the wind
seven dragons, serpents all
calling out across the universe
made of thunder, made of rain
and lightning at their feet.
Dragons gold against the sun
seven shadows cool the land
the farmer pauses at his plow
the merchant sighs amidst his reckonings.
Fire, thunder, water, air
the dragons speak, the power passes
all the earth is sanctified
seven dragons cross the sky.