The abundance was a harvest
of more than we ever hoped or asked for,
uncountable like elm seed disks
slipping through air on spring morning.
We re-snaked the forest that day.
The mud banks shivered
as the screaming children pulled me there.
Motion. Unexplained. Climbing capsules.
Snakes. The birth day of snakes.
A hallelujah day of snakes.
Heaven laughed down guffaws
and the heavy roof of leaves shook
at the slithering advance.
I think not one snake child
returned to the place of broken shells
and genesis. Not one turned back
to call a mother, show her us.