Dragon Hunt

Honestly, I do write about other stuff, but I seem to have a theme going, so I'll throw in this one too:

Dragon Hunt

What wild fire is this?
My nerves are raw and
My nails are red, clear,
Wild red.
I dream of danger.
I climb up rough bark,
Its creases
Coarse under hand,
A rough neck and face.
I rake over
Powerful limbs,
And the rain is fleeting,
Making only
Steam like an
Unnatural fog.
The forest is
No one’s haven;
It is its own
Savage ride.
What can my
Lips touch, my
Hands push to
Quell this
Scorching?


C. Bronco