Judith Wright — Hunting Snake

Sun-warmed in this late season’s grace under the autumn’s gentlest sky we walked, and froze half-through a pace. The great black snake went reeling by. Head down, tongue flickering on the trail he quested through the parting grass, sun glazed his curves of diamond scale and we lost breath to see him pass. What track he followed, what small food fled living from his fierce intent, we scarcely thought; still as we stood our eyes went with him as he went. Cold, dark and splendid he was gone into the grass that hid his prey. We took a deeper breath of day, looked at each other, and went on.