I am neither winged nor hoofed; but small
tan, dappled, and lacking venom. Though
my kind comes in manifold colors, the
faintest glimpse of me conjures the huge
black serpent of nightmares and lore.
My motley skin I shed to become anew,
but I can never eclipse the curse.
I tend to keep to myself. Sometimes I crawl
into the vexatious pit of my kin; though I
prefer adding mystique to the garden.
I slither on my belly in search of some
small pulsating prey then a cool shadowy
place to rest. Most things are grand from
my vantage point since I seldom rise above
the heel. Occasionally, when I inch up a
tree, I wonder what it must be like to roar
or soar from there.
Progress licensed Adam to slay me.
Eve aids my presence unless I am
couture. Children are taught to fear me
yet some appreciate my beguiling charm.
While too naive to know that fertility, eternity,
and wisdom I symbolize, the innocent quickly
learn that I am delicate, playful, and necessary.
Camouflaged by nature, I creep to my fate.
Should trouble happen my way, I will rear
my tiny head, and launch my best defense.
I will hiss.