The grass snake, three feet long, lay coiled
upon our compost heap
which, as I sat and watched it, boiled
with little ones. “Asleep.”,
I thought, but as I sat and stared
It slowly raised its head,
and looked me in the eye, not scared,
And this is what it said:
“Consider how for hours I lie
And drink the summer’s heat
not knowing if I live or die.”
Said I “The day is sweet,
yet winter is not far away
and pheasants eat your brood.”
“I see no further than today,
nor would I if I could.
Humanity’s a heavy load:
you have my sympathy….”
It stopped abruptly for a toad
to join our colloquy.
“I live a solitary life
beneath your stones and plants,
yet feel no absence of a wife
nor passion nor romance.
“Yet poetry has never stirred,
nor symphony, your core:
Then what,” I asked a passing bird,
“can you say life is for?”
Sang bird: “We eat the seeds you give,
My family and I,
Not knowing as we simply live
That otherwise we die.
Yet that which must be done I do
And never felt remorse.
Can half as much be said of you?”
And it was right, of course.
But as I, thoughtful, turned to go
I glimpsed your summer dress,
and smiled, remembering I know
humanity’s redress.