SNAKE IN THE GRASS

My husband hopes to
happen upon a snake,
I do not – and so I do.
This morning my friend asks
if the woman I just passed
warned me of the rattler.
We look down and there it is,
crossing the asphalt between us.
A big one, eight to ten rattles,
he thinks,
close to four feet in length.
I am calm this time,
do not shriek and run away
as I have in the past.
We stand quietly and watch
as the snake makes his way
across the pavement,
Back in the grass
it all but disappears,
had we not watched we
would have never known
it was there.
That is why they say
a snake in the grass,
my husband says,
which is when
it got scarey.