His Table Set Poem by J. Robert Trebor

His Table Set

he lies in deep grass
always alert,
he waits

senses on fire
missing nothing,
tasting air,
he knows it is near
he waits

eyes as slits
not his best asset,
his tongue flickers
wildly

he silently coils
his target within reach,
he strikes

fangs extended
his table set
nature's way

His Table Set
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