The Serpent

This is my wandering lonesome backyard stroll. Where is my cat? He sits in the vines, pawing at lines. He’s out to kill again tonight, but something here, well, it’s not quite right. I practically bow with nose in the dirt to pry a bit. Nosy indeed. Looking to maybe save the life of some poor helpless thing.
Instead, and lo, I behold a serpent–long as my arms can feign to fly–capable of little more than striking fear into stoic minds. Tail and leaf repeated collisions make rattlers of harmless constrictor tips. There is no room for fear here; and so it must be subdued, cradled and returned to that holy green mother; far from darting eyes and frightened footfalls.
I seek out my cane: a blind man’s eyes. My serpent wrangling shepherd’s staff device.
Alas, for upon my return, the serpent is gone. So is my cat.

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Filed under animals, cat, cats, nature, prose, rescue, serpent, snake, wildlife, writing

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