The moon's a half-closed dragon's eye. It stares
At me, surrounded by white scales all ringed
With palest red. The rest is hidden, bares
This one bright eye, I'm certain it is winged
As I am certain that it breathes this cloud
Surrounding it and spreading out the dark.
Perhaps he is the reason I'm allowed
These January shorts. He stares down, stark
Against the night, against the creeping cold
Caressing my new-shaven cheeks. I walk
A pace as brisk as this cool air. I'm bold
Before this dragon I now choose to stalk.
Orion aims, his arm drawn back. He'll hit
The target if he should let fly -- but I
Don't need his arrows -- they don't need to split
The scales. This victory he won't deny
Me on this night. I'll face the dragon down,
I'll tear him from the sky. This victory
Is mine alone. I'll take his flame and drown
It, make him bow his massive head to me.