The Stone Dragon

He perches on the parapet
of a cathedral bell tower,
chiseled jaws roaring mute,
joints, muscle fused
gray with granite,
wings furled
above the urban pulse.
His brooding brow
lies frozen in stone,
as of a soul bound to behold 
but never lord the sky.
Water oozes from
bulbous eyes
and falls into a river
of umbrellas
with the rain,
the cold, beating rain.

Scott Speck
04/27/99