Ode to a Cobra

Saw the name. Wrote a poem.

Slithering through the icy grass,

your patience as strong as your fangs,

intellect far as can be from crass-

from a branch, how your sleek tail hangs.

Waiting and waiting for night to fall,

you glisten like droplets of rain,

like tears that run while you still crawl,

your stillness not starting to wane.

You lay like a shadow of darkest mirth,

and your eyes, oh how they shine.

You lie like no other and have from birth-

but truth remains your sign. 

And still you are the tranquil calm-

the ultimate show of wonder,

your care and oneness are your psalm

and silence is your thunder.

You see like no other, you hear all your own,

you notice the difference in change-

and your senses like that of a tree fully grown

would kill it should they interchange.

Your kiss is like death and your stealth is like life,

the fire of lusting and hunger-

but this is your mind and a fang is a knife

the same should you be younger.

And oh the sight of something new,

the sight of something bold

is reason to take the seeds and sew-

the seeds of stories untold!

The might of grace and secret strength-

the secrecy of your will

your faith leads you to any length

so you may even kill!

An onlooker could not comprehend

the endless colour of your scale-

limitless shades of power you send,

your feelings are far from pale.

Yet all you do and all you say

is summed up in one great peace-

a piece of your mind from day to day

is the essence of spirit release

The splendor, the spirit, the stillness, the care-

fraught with the power of one-

your magnificent presence commands an air

of work that has yet to be done.

Author's Note

I'm no cobra expert, but this seemed appropriate.