Mystical Serpent

The Mystical Serpent

Once upon a time there lived animals that belonged in myths

and tall tales. Beavers the size of wolves and serpents who can

coil themselves around a hill. They called this land their home.

We often saw them in passing, dashing away from the ruckus.

The end of a tail quickly disappears into the tall grass. But we

saw them more often through the marks they left behind. Like

the long and shimmering coat left by the great serpent. It’s soft

yet strong and shined like the stars.

The great serpent spoke the language of the sky. She came and

stayed on the plateau three times a year. Twice when the days

and nights were balanced, and once more when the sun’s

highest in the sky. She’d dance and sing on the plateau before

leaving her coat behind for us. It happened year after year,

generation after generation.

Her returns were as certain as the seasons, until one year she

didn’t come back. The nights gave in to days and the days kept

growing and she didn’t return. The sun rose to the top of the

sky and descended and still she didn’t return. The days gave

into nights and the nights kept growing and still she didn’t

return. We waited year after year and she never returned.

On the plateau where she once danced and sang, we built an

earth serpent in hope that she’d hear our call.

Once upon a time there lived animals that belonged in myths and tall tales.
Beavers the size of wolves and serpents who can coil themselves around a hill.

They called this land their home.
We often saw them in passing, dashing away from the ruckus.
The end of a tail quickly disappears into the tall grass.

But we saw them more often through the marks they left behind.
Like the long and shimmering coat left by the great serpent.
It’s soft yet strong and shined like the stars.

The great serpent spoke the language of the sky.
She came and stayed on the plateau three times a year.

Twice when the days and nights were balanced, and once more when the sun’s highest in the sky.
She’d dance and sing on the plateau before leaving her coat behind for us.

It happened year after year, generation after generation.

Her returns were as certain as the seasons, until one year she didn’t come back.
The nights gave in to days and the days kept growing and she didn’t return.