Ode to the Island Dragon

By Paul A.T. Wilson

The dragon waits, she's deeply sleeping
She is there and here and in between
Breathing deeply, soundly dreaming,
Can you hear her? Can you feel her?
The wind that blows, the water flows,
The gifts she gives, the life that grows.

The time is near but are you listening?
She calls to us through breeze and whispers,
Her deep red eyes opening, blinking,
With open soul and open heart, ,
Dreams may hold, the tales of old,
From summer's heat, the winter's cold.

Wings out stretched and eyes of gold,
A raw that shakes the heavens and earth,
Our Dragon is awake from slumber,
Her blazing breath will light the sky,
Isle of Wight, Isle of Bounty, 
The Dragon is our Island county.

From Culver Down to Needles end,
With sea's of blue or an angry grey
Rolling hills and sandy beaches
Two rivers Yar, their names the same
Sacred stones and scared places,
Lovely people and smiling faces.

© 2018 From the Cauldron Ltd