Behind the Grindstone: Dragon’s Breath

I wrote this poem about eight years ago honoring our local volunteer fire department who battled a prairie fire and saved our house and outbuildings. It seems fitting to publish the poem at this time to honor and thank all those who have been battling the fires this spring. Hero’s they are, each and every one.

The dragon awakes
A breath he takes
And exhales a puff of smoke

Woe to them
Who are downwind
The dragon has awoke

The grass is high
And tinder dry
Along with last years weeds

He blows his breath
To spread the death
On which the dragon feeds

The prayers been prayed
The calls been made
The warriors are on the way

Like days of old
And knights so bold
The dragon they come to slay

Their spears it seems
Wielded from chariots of steel
To put an end

Into the blaze
The warriors meet the foe
Is the breath of death

But the lines been drawn
And they go on
In their chariots of steel

To save the land
From the dragons hand
And the blistering heat they feel

The battle rages
Till the final stages
The smoke, the fire, the wind

The wars been won
The fightin’ done
The dragons at his end

Then they gather in a crowd
All smokey and proud
Knowin’ their job was well done

At the end of the day
They are warriors I say
Yes warriors to the very last one