Zilgore approaches the mountainous metropolis with hesitation.
For years he soars from system to system, decimating cities with rivers of heat from his mouth.
This time he reflects on what such a city at altitude, unharmed, can mean for him.
A new home could await if he leaves the metropolis intact and forages in the valleys.
Zilgore knows now that he ages with every passing attack, and his wings tire from the battles.
The reluctant dragon lands on a recently thawed hilltop for yet another scorched-earth assault.
(From Jeremy Gravilore’s book entitled Dimensions: Poems, Vignettes, and Flash Fiction)
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