Today, cold silk writhes through my hands
sensual yet foreign, small eyes,
forked tongue tasting my fingertips.
He tries to escape my tender grasp,
but hand over hand I bar his escape
offering a glimpse of nature's beauty
to my daughter's saucer eyes.
Her smile, wide, happy — extending fingers to touch
the little garden serpent that brings no fear —
and I know, she too, will play with bugs
in the summer sun.
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