Beneath infertile fields, where the breath seeping beyond view would suffocate the life of mans impoverished wondering.
Curiosity was a misconception what was submerged was not as above. For eggs lay dormant feeding on the impoverished fumes. Like lullabies grazing upon it slumbering.
But local folk were wiser upon the land, greeting the field from afar. For what was legend was fact instead. When the earth did breath with rumbling discontent they knew the land was ready to birth new life from fields of purgatory.
Majestic wings flew from afar, and villagers gazed at this beauty of imagining, as bones scatted like seed over a field of infertile hallucinations. But where some dreams die, one awakens.
As the earth heaves like a womb being awoken by birth, so seeps the blood of the earth, alight in a concussion of vivid hues of fire and life, graced by eyes afar.
Flame danced around this new birth, as it inhaled the flame, expelling a fountain of new born breath. And the villagers cheered, the new born looked, but the mother knew that there was nothing to fear for this place was safe.
A tradition of old, letting those who dare wonder, treasure hunters, armies had tried to collect the bounty of this land, for with birth comes riches from deep in the earth. But the villagers had the wealth of seeing this every few hundred years.
But the dragon always paid its debt, as wings of frail flight learned the dynamics of wind and wings. A hand gestured to the well, and falling a bountiful harvest of gem stones. like a rainbow finding its place of birth, so many filled the sky with there descent.
And then as before and times long ago. with eyes adjusted to not gaze on the field, a mother does neatly once again hide her worth beneath the earth. So long from now a new child will see the happiness of a mother on infertile earth.