There be dragons "It's some kind of threat. Do you feel the hot wind?" "It must be the breeze We feel every day Or at least from time to time." "This is dragon fire. His hot breath Like a hundred Santa Ana's Flushing us with its heat." "You don't mean 'flush.' 'Flash' perhaps or something, Not a dragon surely. There is no such thing and nothing is coming." "Don't you hear the beat Of his heavy feet, The roar of his anger, The rustling as he rushes Through the trees Bent on destroying you and me?" "Ho, ho. You amuse me, Lawrence. You should take Up sailing or flying kites. There's a club for Jeeps That might be just the thing To curb your morbid Over-active imagination." "I see the glint of sunlight Off its scales, the great Wide swaths his tail makes Through the forest as he comes. I heard the villagers scream Before he crushed them lifeless. Look at his eyes. He is searching for you and me." "You bore me with your incessant Concern for esoteric causes. The Sasquatch, the Yeti maybe But a medieval dragon? This may have Reality in a fevered mind But not out here In the light of day Where the hot winds blow and something Like an earthquake shakes the ground." "Will you but look? Here's the map And 'there be dragons' over there. I see your look. You think this Parchment map is obsolete, A medieval legend combined With cartographic ignorance, But what better way To learn of this rising Phoenix-like monster than the Fear beyond us trembling?"