Poetry by Jeff Green


Last of his kind

by cricketjeff on December 4, 2008.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

Just twice in every century for all his thousand years
He’d flown back to the hills where he had hatched
The men who lived beneath them cowered in long remembered fears
This ritual had awful deeds attached
The mighty beasts that filled the skies must hunt before they mate
When catching lady dragons humans make the perfect bait

As season came and seasons went the dragon flock declined
As men discovered nests and laid them waste
The end he thought may be in sight for all of dragonkind
The mighty line of monsters be replaced
For fifty years ago tonight his lady flew away
He’d waited all that time until they’d meet again today

And now he’s raised his mighty head let loose his mating roar
And listened for the beat of dragon’s wings
But all he hears is emptiness no meeting is in store
He stares into the grief the future brings
He does not hunt for children to entice his lady wife
Nor swoop to rob a villager of what is left of life

The saddest dragon ever hatched is taking to the skies
His final flight from heartache and disease
The valleys of these Northern lands now echo to his cries
He’s heading for the greatest of the seas
And as the moon shines overhead he dives down to the deep
A mighty splash, a hiss of steam and then eternal sleep

Author notes

Option three mating season (for dragons)