Force of Habit

Long ago in the village of Duck Aberdeen
lived an enormous dragon the color of green.
Although he looked ferocious, he wasn’t so mean,
save for when he breathed fire to warm up the scene.

All the villagers liked him and gave him hurrahs,
and in fact they referred to him fondly as Claws.
They were all superstitious by day and by night;
many worshipped the dragon to lessen their fright.

Now it happened that Claws had a habit to wit;
he would spit out his talons he nervously bit.
Some asserted one reason was being high strung;
others said absent parenting when he was young.

But whatever the reason, he seemed to not care
as he left dragon nails scattered ‘round everywhere.
And at first there was nothing to do with the claw
except shrug and accept it came from dragon paw.

Yet a few of the elders with worshiping eyes
sanctified dragon claws and let conviction rise.
So when Duck once was battered by terrible storm,
superstitious belief in claws became the norm.

Through the village an industry of priests arose
to appease every bane using green dragon toes.
In the shadow of wing superstition progressed
and the Duck villagers assumed they were so blessed.

Other villages back in the quaint days of yore
received blessing from nature, but also what for.
Yet a dragon with a bad habit in Duck
let the villagers think they had claws for good luck.


28 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
3-19-13