Wylde Wyverne…
There is a Wise One, a druid, who lives far down south, sister to the Mallee, and sister to my heart. She speaks a language woven out of dragon-thought and a million time-defying interconnections, and has a soul blessed with too-much-seeing-hearing-and-feeling that blesses messes where others only seem determined to claw each other’s eyes out. Given the time of year, and given that I’m so deeply blessed to share conversations with Wyverne that stretch and defy the time span of our knowing each other here, I give you her poem. Although “poem” is a poor word, here. Not rich enough. I give you her expression, her comprehension…even those words are inadequate. I give you Wyld Wyverne:
The Wistful Dragon 