A man might call the meeting chance
To see a python passing through the night,
Parting the warm electric air
With concertina'd softness -
Its brown and olive nakedness
Smooth against the contours of the earth.

Its sharp eyed iris tightened
To a look of cold command
To meet my stare.
Its majesty refused a second glance,
It did not know the kingdom was traduced.

I,
Clothed and naked,
Wondered at my knowledge of its passing
And saw my shadow
Cast against the redness of the dying sun.