0366 Poem As Snake, Poem As Not-Snake

Walking the narrow, stepped path that bends through our local sub-tropical, magical landfall, full of strangeness, there it was across the path, brownish, yellow and green markings, waiting adrenalin poured through the body, waking instinct, emotion, thoughts; possible next moves racing manifold through the mind, uncertainties, no previous experience of quite this situation to rely on in our relatively snake-free neighbourhood and it was big; the body froze, the eyes just looked at the branch, covered in green moss, yellow lichen, brown and almost weightless with rot so that the storm had tossed it onto the path, into my path, indifferent, innocuous, so much so that as the body restored to equilibrium I was beyond kicking it aside - in some sort of embarrassed respect; it, unaffected by all I brought to it; like a poem