The Penumbras Of Ferris Wheels Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Lapping at the stone,
The forked tongues of rattlesnakes behave like
Weather vanes,
As they are searching for warm:
Some crawl into the plastic grass of Easter
Baskets and sleep all afternoon:
All through the sun showers
And the penumbras of Ferris Wheels,
And when they awaken, like fissures in geodes,
Like opened pomegranates,
Why their eyes light upon the world,
And their lips part as if they were going to speak.