Black Snake

I remember the snake I met

When raking in the woods.

He was shiny and black,

All friendliness.

He slithered over my shoes

As I built a pile of leaves,

Then in a burst of speed

In a body without hands or feet

Movement built on grace,

And he was under the pile.

He was probably hungry.

I moved up the hill,

Raking as I went,

He came slowly behind me,

By my side again

Then under the next pile.

The boys who helped me that day

Came from Mexico.

They killed every snake they saw,

Not this one in my yard.

I never kill snakes.

Think of the beauty they hold,

The tongue that smells the prey,

Stillness and sudden speed.

He followed me around

Most of the afternoon

Of beetles and crickets and worms,

I believe he ate his fill.

As he left I touched his tail

Lightly with my rake.

He gently reared his head,

No more than a hollow threat,

As if to say, "Don't touch!"

I apologized to him

For my act of thoughtlessness

And thanked him for his gift,

Of delight in moving things,

A still companionship

As day drew down to dark.

We have done such harm to the earth

And to the creatures of the earth,

And still they bless us.