we walk the canal/creek road. Three friends. Not a dog, a child, an old woman, but Three Friends.
She calls out Snake and stops in her tracks as she's been taught. All our walks are with the reminder that the land belongs to the snakes this time of year. We stay on paths. The rest of it all belongs to them. How she saw, i can't imagine. So small. The size of a garden worm but at least twice as long. Red. The red of my Carnelian. a new born. At first i thought Red Racer but then…maybe Sharp Tailed. They moved quickly to stones on the side and hid their head, remaining so still and i love how the end wrapped around two twigs. We squatted a long time.
She will be Five soon.
windthread 
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