Jim C. Hines
The Ancient Wyrm
 
The clouds' black blanket shielded starry night,
And moonbeams' glow - a halo, soft and gray.
Jorn, the shepherd, heard his sheep take fright,
And in the barn the mares began to bray.

Dark flapping wings left thunder in their wake
The dragon's flame lit up the field like day.
Jorn clutched his staff, and though his hands did shake,
His heart was bold; he charged into the fray.

Sheep fled as sickle-claws reached out to snare
A fat gray shape, unmoving in the flock.
And Jorn's strong blows encountered only air,
As dragon-fangs did crack an ancient rock.

     For though the dragon's tooth and claw were keen,
     A more myopic beast was never seen.

 
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