Paper Dragon

Paper Dragon

Looking up for the deadly thing
I made such a berth around in the days

Of blossoms and blooms, I see you swaying there,
The color of storms, in the dissipating

Fire of December, barely attached to a
Matched limb, and only a fraction of your

Former glory, your warm, dread, gray
Glory. Looking down and away from your

Tatters, almost embarrassed to gape at how the
Weeks have chiseled you, I see the dark

Patch extending before me upon the
Flag rug of leaves, the light only

Behind me now, only behind me now
And I draw my flannel closer around me,

Knowing that in time, the wind will have
Its way with me — the wind will have its way.

~ S. K. Orr