Distinct lack of water.

As I Watch you dance on top of gravestone 

But these are not graves there are no stones 

They left unturned except on atlas page 

There’s a distinct lack of water to walk on 

And the dragon has webbed feet 

And feathers on its peak 

as it clutches at red offerings to stick in its comb

that’s alignment who was Bourne a owl 

Who tuned a bowl and built a bow 

To play my strings until i sweep and wave

Myself to a stream to pick maple seed.

To dig a hole