Dragon

The stone under him never cooled. A dragon lay along the high ridge. Scales took the last light. A wing shifted, and the pass filled with sweet thin smoke. Fire lived in the jaw. People who saw that did not come down talking. They came down quieter, carrying a dragon gift that would not cool, the heat showing up again in dragon playing cards on a dark table, in a dragon notebook that would not stay blank, in a dragon postcard that left a hand still warm. Night took the ridge. The jaw kept its fire.