Postcard 21

Metal armored war dragons screech
Overhead, ripping the sky to sonic shreds
They're just practicing now. Playing.
Showing off for us and preening as they
Loop and dive, separate and in formation.
They aren't going to rain fire on our heads,
Not today or tomorrow or, we're told, forever.
They are our protectors. They are on our side,
These speeding, airborne creatures of death.
What choice do we have? We
Must believe, for they are
Our children, our creations.
The DNA of our ancestors
Lives inside their skins. We
Can't conceive they could be
Used against us. So we
Ignore the booms we hear from
Far off lands and pretend our
Peace will extend into infinity


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