Another Bull Snake

He snacks in the junipers
on a mouse; slithers out
to see the lady with the lawnmower,
not noticing him at her heel.

He calms his churning heart, moves along
the wall, as if to say: avoid shit, not because 
I fear, but it is dirty.  

The lady stops the mower and scream;
eyes fixed on him. 
Uh, crap, he hisses with a shudder;
moves toward the rusty tool box to hide
under it; in a quick one motion, snatches his 
tail and a hiss. 

He thinks: how lucky, to escape the machine's maw,
saving him halved. 
She thinks: how lucky, the heel is still good.

Passing wind whispers: for them fools; lucky day. 

©Byung A. Fallgren