The Bee

A little bit of Summer, a little bit of insect fear. Enjoy!

A dragon rose up from the bronzed air,
and fixed me frozen with his faceted glare.
Sun-color rays stung from steely wing,
while my ear turned round from his roaring.
His yellow scales bristled, strangely hewed,
and nasty breath out of his angry mouth spewed.
Advancing on wing, his countenance glowering,
he threatened my maidenhood as it lay full flowering.
Oh, how I cowered, I ducked, I fled,
from the darkling mane wreathed round his head,
and Lord, his span barely grazed my tress,
as he churned the air in search of his nest.

The Bee -- Anika Ismel, 1992