at the waning of a warm spring day during a drought

halfway
down
the hardpacked
ground of a
serpentine trail to a lake
what I had thought was a weatherworn twig
was a small white snake ~
hardly any larger
than a
nightcrawler
worm

stock
still
despite abiding
abilities to squirm ~
maybe scared as I stared
then stepped past
but not
too
fast

while
thinking
safely sleep
through the night ~
that when the sun again
rises to a
sufficient height
you
might

slither
slide
glide right
back into the
warmth of
its
light