Plaster and Clay (2/06)

It lies, alone, with naught around,
On boxes yellowed with age.
Its plaster jaws agape in a frown,
Its eyes both sharp with rage.

A neck extends, supports a head,
The clay dried out and cracked.
Its silent bulk a dull, dark red.
The broken tail lies slack.

The fearsome beast of children’s tales
Brought to its knees at last
No more a threat than hardened bones
Of those from eons past.

If clay and plaster mouth could tell
The glory of its kind
We’d get a glimpse, for just a spell,
Beyond a fossil find.

A world of jungles and sprawling land.
A world of danger rife.
A world with giants alive and grand.
A world packed full of life.

So listen sharp to hear a roar
Escape the withered throat
From well before the birds could soar
Or history we wrote.

Its hide bears scars of battles fought
And ages under sun.
Perhaps it’s only recently wrought
But it bridges time’s long run.