The Snake Poem by Raymond Farrell

The snake
Lay
Camoflaged
By his natural
Pattern of scales
And the leaves
And debris
Of the forest floor
Where he was coiled
Waiting
Or resting
I don't know
What he thinks
But he must think
Something
Why did he choose
This location
Where
The faint notion
Of a trail
Meanders
Down
To the stream
Did he think
I will wait here
A rodent
A small mammal
Is likely to pass
Or was it the shade
Of the forest canopy
Bringing relief
From the summer's sun
That brought him here
To rest
I don't know
What the snake thinks
But he must think
Something.