They Come
Like a dream of dragons from unmarked caverns,
the marauders swoop on stealthy wings,
soar above the tunes, vanish,
reappear, gather on trees, porches.
Some perish on their backs on sidewalks,
others cojoin mates there.
Day by day transparent wings
sew the air with invisible thread —
dragons on a journey,
leaving behind memories like paintings
for those who remember.
(c) 2024 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 