by Ethel Mortenson Davis
On an early walk,
a large rattlesnake
lay on the road
warming himself
from the freezing night.
His large head contains
flesh-dissolving venom.
With hearts pounding
we walk in an opposite
direction, in a large circle,
away from him.
A second snake
looms on the road.
We don’t know
what he will do.
We can’t step
away from him.
Instead we must
embrace him,
do the dance
with him,
while looking
into his yellow eyes.
fourwindowspress 