An unlikely escape from a lost world island. |
Once on a wind blown Pacific plateau, held in a land that retained long ago, I was a statue ‘neath predator’s sky, frozen still as pterodactyls flew by. Great pointed wing and a razor-sharp maw, rip-roaring screech with a dangling hind claw. Lords of the sky in a world time forgot, strength of selection for all the prey sought. (If I am to be reptilian prey, carried, cold-blooded, to caverns of gray, do me the mercy of long, pointed lance, rather than lingering, suspended dance.) How prehistoric this island world yields! Flying meat-eaters and dinosaur fields. Potential morsel for leathery lord, beast with a hunger and foot-long swift sword. In my fear frozen I still had a look at my surroundings ere I felt the hook. And in the matted vine-bramble beneath, I seized upon something shaped like a wreath. It wasn’t much of a defensive ware, but it beat going up holding the air. So pterodactyl descended with zeal, and I pushed up in a final appeal. Then with a jolt I was lifted so quick, head spinning madly and feeling quite sick. But then I realized to my relief, the pterodactyl had claws in the wreath! And so I hung on as leather wings droned; with laboring breath the reptile moaned. Yet save for the cuts and pain in my hand, I was still whole as we flew o’er the land. My hold was slipping--no more to extend, thus I made peace for a drop to my end. But then below was a river of life, so I let go and splashed in like a knife. Carried by currents that flow from time‘s grip, buoyed by some flotsam to a rescue ship. And like a bottle picked up from the sea, I was a message, elated to be. [SR 10] (Lines: 40) Required prompt words: --wind blown --statue --fields --wreath --bottle |