With the summer sun on your back, a cool breeze in your wings, and an afternoon with nothing to do, the mind has all the peace and quiet required to ponder.

A dragon like me spends its life free in the sky, soaring wherever the wind takes us. We loop and spiral, dive and soar, dart like a hawk or sail like a gull, but always we are in control, always safe.

What about the little fish in the river? Always fighting an endless, unforgiving current, cold waters, lashing debris. They must hide in the shallows or cling to the stony bottom of the torrent, or risk being pulled over the falls.

It’s easy to forget, sometimes, that some circumstances are beyond our control. Perhaps those little fish are mightier than we dragons, for they fight everyday in a battle I should hope to never fight.

Could I survive a flight if the sky were an eternal tempest? I doubt it.