An early hour of mist....
Filmy, translucent robes.
The forests' Ambassadors
Are about...Royalty.
No birdsong, movements
Along treelines.
Prescenses in slippered
Quiet, disturb nothing.
This early hour, the Fates
Sip tea on the lawn...
Muses dismount from
Unicorns...
The Dragon still sleeps...
With its fire of life
The Sun
Will appear.
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sleeping-dragon/
