One Day You Wake to Find Yourself a Copperhead

now you are slither-quick

                            a glint                 of white fang

dry bite              live young

                            some things       remain the same

and really, you always admired

                            the crisp lace     of brown leaves

let others keep their warning

                            rattle                   you prefer to hide

the shadow of rot and timber

                            a skin                  you slip once a year

anyway, all beauty is laced

                            with venom       at least a snake is honest