Can I talk about a snake without bringing up fear? or lust?
This one is busy catching insects.
Pretending not to move,
vanishing between blades of grass,
it melts into clover,
coalesces between shadows.

This must be what evanescence is -
like a flaw in the light,
uncertain clarity,
disappearance slips into the world.

The snake stitches its way across the lawn,
a small hunger, threaded with patient instinct.
The tiny valve of mouth opens and closes on sustenance,
the dispassionate toil of feeding.

The human heart is another kind of valve.
With little instinct for patience,
it opens and closes on a hunger for meaning.
Desire is its earnest passion, the beautiful human flaw,
original sin, and honest work of the body.

The snake is gone, and fear. My heart beats out its sin.
What remains of the light radiates a thin broth of reddish-gold,
no illumination, not yet night - an uncertain clarity
stitching hungrily across the charcoal-green lawn,
a beautiful flaw in the light, caught in the act of vanishing.