Flight of the Dragons

In the distance
A faint color sparkles
In the morning air
A ruby red reflection
Weaving like no star
Followed
Swiftly by twinkles
Of blue, gold, and green
Until the sky is a mass
Of moving color
Flocking like a
Colony of rare birds
But growing larger
Than any birds

A rumble grows
As if a great
Storm approaches
And jets of white
Light zag forth
As if perhaps
This is a strange
And colorful
Storm cloud
Bearing lightning
And thunder

A brilliant blue
Rain drop tumbles from
The cloud
Faster and faster
Descending
Not rain but
A dragon
Wings tucked in
Arrowing straight for
Earth then pulling
Up with a roar
You can feel
His joy as he
Pushes against
The pull of the earth
His roar resonates
Through your bones
With the sheer
Pleasure of living
In the air

The cloud of
Dragons surges on
As they dive and
Plunge and then
Strain toward the sun
Pushes themselves
Towards new heights
Their wings seem
Paper thin but
Their power creates
Great gusts on the
Ground tossing
Around leaves
While dust devils
Swirl mimicking
The swirling dragons
Above
Their great tails
Snap as they playfully
Try and grab the
Tail in front of them
Tumbling to and fro

As the sun begins
To decline this
Great gathering
Of dragons fly on
Slowly recedes into
The distances
Turning once more
Into a cloud of
Colorful sparks

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