I saw a young snake glide <br />Out of the mottled shade <br />And hang, limp on a stone: <br />A thin mouth, and a tongue <br />Stayed, in the still air. <br /> <br />It turned; it drew away; <br />Its shadow bent in half; <br />It quickened and was gone <br /> <br />I felt my slow blood warm. <br />I longed to be that thing. <br />The pure, sensuous form. <br /> <br />And I may be, some time.<br /><br />Theodore Roethke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/snake-3/
