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Young, George, 1938- / Bird of paradise: poetry
(2011)

To a garter snake,   p. 33


Page 33

To A Garter Snake
You never had a chance, on your warm rock in the late October sun.
I watch you curl around the horny talons,
watch the terrible beak bite
the back of your neck and pull your slender body straight,
watch you go, headfirst, down the throat,
watch your still wriggling tail disappear in one, two, three gulps,
then watch you fly away across a brown field,
circle
and climb to heaven
now you are hawk.
33


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