I am the peninsula animal

Deep down lurks a massive serpent coiled in London, shell shape is the peninsula. It’s ripples move through the earth. Silent and hidden almost surrounded by water lapping at its edge. The lightness of the dragonfly cuts through the smell of Norfolk burning the nose with each break. Slowly surely the beast is poked and prodded by technology, land grabbers dig out her lair. The birds of the sky look on silently hovering on the movement. Stirring takes place. Movement shuffles off more cover, grass claims back some. Fish are called up the Thames by the ceaseless movement. The panther of time prowls around the edge eying newly incoming inhabitants. Long gone smells rise to the surface as music blasts from the dome. Deep down she stirs and shifts noiselessly.