Amid the verdant leaves, a darker hue –
That shares more traits with emerald than with vine –
By movement now distinguishes to view
The sleek-scaled worm, pursuing meal to dine?
“Oh child,” the serpent laughs, “why thinkest I
Aloft among the shadowed branches wait?
No purpose dire could make me climb so high;
I seek only the birds to imitate!”
And thus he croons a hymn, surpassing fair,
As weaves his blunted muzzle slowly near,
His gleaming coils a halo of your hair.
His breath a faint caress against your ear…
So you, if thought be fixed on honeyed note,
Won’t even feel his fangs sink in your throat.
Copyright (C) Vox Mortuum 2014