I learned to hold snakes that first summer
on the mountain. Not with stagecraft
or raving tongue, but with concentrated focus
like a tightropewalker holding a heron egg.

I’d find them, fragile silver-edged shoestrings,
alive & nonvenmous & dozing inside a door
sweep or wiggling on a fallen branch, a curled
leaf. I spoke to them like fresh puppies.

            Hello sweetheart. What’s up little
            green? Staying out of the heat,
            my lovely slither bit?

Baby green snakes everywhere! They danced
on my zucchini, spiraled at the foot of my claw
foot tub. Dined on banana slugs & chili-bean
colored earthworms. I said, hell yes & I surrendered. 

            Hello, Sugaree. Don’t be afraid.
            I’ll walk around you. My sweetness,
            if I step on you. I didn’t mean it.

Oh, tender lessons of my preparative
days. Yes, yes, I remember them fondly. I learned
the snake kingdom will not devour me. Virtuous
garter, I grew to adore your sweet-keeled scales.