Stalking Snow Snakes Poem by John Weber

Dusted landscapes get rounded soft,
holding our force of awe aloft
within muted visions of white
to fold our cold with pumping might.

Each step slides forth to set the pace
while chasing grace; your blushing face
hides a smile once chased in exile
to beguile each mile we compile.

We slosh along the spotless path
basking in the wrath of this bath
clear on the faces digging out
devout to sprout a driving route.

You giggle, with camera in hand,
trudging through layers of quicksand
to trace the place where snakes dangle
and tangle brave while winds wrangle

to lurch the perch within that tree
where that sallow snake twists with glee
to taunt one brief moment most gaunt.
We choose to haunt his fleeting jaunt

by snapping photos of his dance,
perchance to prance around his lance:
a symbol of delicate fate
too great to bait or desecrate.