Dragons in the Gum Tree Grove

Gargoyles

I dream of gargoyles clutching the eaves
to keep the rain from washing them
through the gutters, with matted leaves
and broken shingles, and down the spout.
They huddle on cramping legs and dream
of scaring children.  They are too wet
for terror now, small granite things
swamped by the elements.  “How sad,”
I tell you, dreaming.  “Take towels out,”
you say, “and help them dry their wings.
I'll bring them broth.” You leave your bed
to brave the rain with cups of soup.
“Your nightgown's wet, and so is your head,”
I say aloud, and wake you up.

Next Poem:  The Chase

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Updated last on:  2001/06/03