Snakes

I will write about snakes
And the poem will be neither eloquent
Nor long
The words strung together will possess
Little depth or meaning
They will not be memorable
They will give no profound insight

Only that a snake is elegant, admirable
Until you take into account its venom
Its ability to constrict
To swallow you whole

Only that its colours are beautiful
But are often no different than that
Of the leaves of a tree, or
Dirt, or detritus on the ground
Which in itself is a terrifying thought.