THE SNAKE

At the end of October

I found on the floor of the woods

a small snake whose back

was patterned with the dark

of the dead leaves he lay on.

His body was thickened with a mouse

or small bird. He was cold,

so stuporous with his full belly

and the fall air that he hardly

troubled to flicker his tongue.

I held him a long time, thinking

of the perfection of the dark

marking on his back, the death

that swelled him, his living cold.

Now the cold of him stays

in my hand, and I think of him

lying below the frost,

big with a death to nourish him

during a long sleep.