Path finder

You cradle the dragon against your chest,

shielding its sleeping form from the elements.


Walking proud

along sandy shores

that soak up your footprints

even as you make them.


Waves crash and swell,

music in its most natural fashion,


for the pull of your hand.

A friendly caress, an age old bond.


But it is not yet time to give in

and take its shelter,

Rocks must be overturned and mountains scaled.


The dragon already begins to stir

and it is still

far from home.


That In-Between Place

The cogs grind against

mushy cloud,

stirring the fluff into shape:

a solid form of wakefulness

that yearns to drift apart.

Bind it tight,

coil the springs up

with a stern twist of key;

barricade it against the cushy strands.

Tick. Tick. Tick.


The alarm sings its unwelcome greeting.