Somewhere In These Woods

For Marty

.

A diamondback rattler

sheds her skin on the path.

.

She rubs her nose over

sticks, rough red rocks–

.

slides and curves across

the moss of fallen logs.

.

Bit by bit, she exposes

those black gems

.

slick with the newness

of a thicker rhythm.

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She will not transform

into puny blue wings.

.

Undulating muscle

will become

.

a six-foot long

version of herself.

.

Queen of venom,

born again

.

in dead pine straw,

she will multiply

.

then curl up, unseen,

in puddles of sun

.

sleep with her eyes

wide open,

.

flick scents of dinner

beside gopher holes.

.

Yesterday left on the trail

like a crumpled up note:

.

somewhere in these woods,

she grows bigger every year.

-Julie Buffaloe-Yoder

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Juvenile Copperhead in a Carolina river (photo taken by Julie).

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