The Rattlesnake A hint of shape beneath the brush with flecks of moonlight on its tail... its body tuned to earth and hush, the serpent waits beside the trail. He sees the night infra-red through pit-hole eyes that never blink, and watches for the smallest stir of creatures springward bound for drink. The predators patience controls the way he lifts his head and looks about; his darkly flicking tongue conveys the smell of prey into his mouth. To live beyond another sun; to shed his skin another year: he bends his neck and stills his head... the living warmth of food is near. NEAR AND FAR WEST
Posted on: Wed, 13 Nov 2013 12:11:20 +0000
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