Walking the narrow, stepped path that bends <br />through our local sub-tropical, <br />magical landfall, full of strangeness, <br />there it was <br />across the path, <br />brownish, yellow and green markings, <br />waiting <br /> <br />adrenalin poured through the body, <br />waking instinct, emotion, thoughts; <br />possible next moves racing manifold through the mind, <br />uncertainties, no previous experience <br />of quite this situation to rely on <br />in our relatively snake-free neighbourhood <br />and it was big; <br />the body froze, <br />the eyes just looked <br /> <br />at the branch, covered in <br />green moss, yellow lichen, <br />brown and almost weightless with rot <br />so that the storm had tossed it <br />onto the path, into my path, <br />indifferent, innocuous, <br />so much so that as the body <br />restored to equilibrium <br />I was beyond kicking it aside - <br />in some sort of embarrassed respect; <br /> <br />it, unaffected by all I brought to it; <br />like a poem<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0366-poem-as-snake-poem-as-not-snake/
