As if Waiting for me to Finish
my morning walk, he greets me
at the bottom of my driveway.
Body unfurled, footlong.
Brown squares of skin
radiate in this summer heat.
He eyes my size. Tongue protrudes
red, darty, in and out, hungry--
like Eden’s enemy. Do I grab
a shovel to protect myself?
He starts slithering away
in a side-to-side motion, reminding
me of how my daughter crawled from me.
Advancing forward, forward,
left, right detours. Attempts to rise.
Forever persevering.
I let the reptile inch past
pavement into grass to shelter
under the shade of white pine.
Author: Nancy Manning
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