Poetry Of Spirit And Light: Bullsnake Territory

Baby blue skies as far as the eye can see invite Cooper and me for a sojourn on the Llano Estacado. I savor the cool sixty-degree airs and hints of sage on light southerly winds. The pale countenance of the setting Moon above the western horizon proffers a brief howdy to daylight and then disappears in pursuit of the comforting veils of night.

Soon I slosh through seas of damp knee and thigh-high grasses. I have not seen the Eastern New Mexico tablelands this green in late August for many years. Wildflowers abound and their festive color splashes ebb and flow among the windswept ripples of the grasslands. I pause and invite the prairie to fill my senses.

Cooper has other motives. He wants to roust birds and four-legged prairie denizens. His frolics and telltale vigorous tail wag bespeak dog paradise. While he plays, a lively entourage of swallows satisfies their morning hunt with insect prey his spirited romps send skyward.

On my homeward saunter down overgrown trails disquiet wells up in primal recesses of intuition. I am in snake habitat. I walk heavy-footed and probe dense vegetation with my walking stick. Sure enough I catch sight of a coiled plains colubrid. I cannot resist taking a photograph. Sooner than expected the snake’s menacing hiss and glottal rattling sounds suffice to break off musings of paradise and spur my swift departure.