R/ckets and S/ntries

the dragon ate the moon, but left substance, a coppery hoopla that fell to us. fell almost into eras of speech, weird islands demanded by earnest warriors, who troop out of cavernous capitols to press instant upon villages. there is no worry, for the dragon is kindly or stupid, will relent in pictures. night will flatten out, with remaining endearments spoken, concerning the silvery moon, when silver it is. the dragon took the moon whole, burnt it to an orange brown and left us watching as the wind picked up, obvious reliance on careful planning. auguries impact the word spun out of the rappings, a dictation warning of war or impedence or even impudence, the fence closes over. a rapping sound upon the roof, angular birds in darkness, cooing or disturbed. the present night exceeds expectations, for the picture looks like honest denial. the dragon can't be so huge, nor so unforgiving. the moon is innocent. the aliens in their spiffy vehicles cruise everywhere, aligned. we're tired of the mockery. the magic begins too quickly.