In tall grasses next to a path
of dirt, stone, ant trails
and occasional coyote scat
where we’ve walked for hours,
a rattler suddenly shakes
her maracas insistently
welcoming and warning tired hikers
like the first quivers of an earthquake
breaking through private reveries
to the coming strangeness of dusk
awakening and settling here
among gray boulders, great
oaks and circling hawks aloft
who scribble the news onto a sky of pink light:
Day’s silence ripped
apart by snake.
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