The Old Woman’s Cane
The smallness of his body is enough to terrify the heart if he was seen. His wings are taught, pulled down against his scales, that breathe in and out in a curiously slow turn, and the tiniest whiffs of smoke ooze from his nostrils. His eyes seem closed, but the most righteous of men will see his pupils, staring slowly around and his faded long beard is wrapped around his nose. His two front teeth are sharp, and his mouthful of teeth are sharper yet, just held back from the visual. The three toenails at the end of his feet are more cutting than the words of those who do not know the righteousness of keeping their lack of calm to themselves.
He is smaller than a baby, but one who is worn beyond the years. Its coat is polished down, the distance between its scales are becoming one, and it sits, in silence, and waits and thinks, and wonders, when her firm grip, will comfort him again.
Ralph Peck
Photo By Ralph Peck
Thanks to the 92 year old English woman who walked the Halls of the Will Rogers Museum.
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