It’s raining again. It’s the rain that brings on the shoots but pulls up the seeds, dampens the fields but then shocks you with its slicing, slashing, freezing daggers, dashing leaves, dissecting stems, drowning seedlings and devouring the dry. The suddenness of the change of pace used to set men running and drive the feral, hissing stable cats back inside to their kits, snuggling down in the golden sanctuary of the woven straw.
The lights are on and you are welcome into my Dragon to find shelter, to find calm, to dry yourself and warm yourself inside and out with drinks hot from boiling with aromas from Africa, India and China or from the furnace of the sun balanced on foreign shores burning as you swallow whole the brief burnt amber liquid. To satisfy yourself with cake topped with oranges, lemon or chocolate while you watch the clouds shifting, churning and moving away to drench the fields in the distance. Fillings between crusty layers to satisfy the gnawing belly ache and itching pangs while you wait to move away again to continue with jobs interrupted and the day’s work stalled.
Welcome to my Dragon, we are waiting for you.