I saw a young snake glide / Out of the mottled shade / And hang, limp on a stone:
A thin mouth, and a tongue / Stayed, in the still air. / It turned; it drew away;
Its shadow bent in half; / It quickened and was gone / I felt my slow blood warm.
I longed to be that thing. / The pure, sensuous form. / And I may be, some time.
(Roethke - Snake)
Really appreciating the sleek, the coiled, and the colorful today.