The evening clouds,
are grey from increasing shadow.
The jagged mists, according to my minds eye, take the forms of dragons,
Encroaching upon me
Until they shatter into ash, their own burning might having destroyed them.
The skulled faces stretch out as if in one last grimace.
The second sooty mass forms into hooks, as the monsters’ lower half tries try reconnect with its collapsing upper.
Rose and tangerine flames waft,
Vanishing into oncoming blackness,
Like spirits hiding into caves, to be reborn as the souls of new mythic reptiles.