The dragon stood as still as an oak tree in winter.
The empty eyes staring into the diamond black sky.
The rustic claws dug into the ground,
like a washakie blade.
The fearsome wings piercing up like flames.
The slick stripy skin like the Devils carpet.
The rough skin like new gravel being put down.
The charcoal-black throwing star attached to its tail,
lodges itself into the vantablack night sky.
The scaled back as shiny as the reflection of a diamond in the sunlight.
The widespread wings fly through the night sky,
looking like the Antonov An-225.
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