Stealthily, slowly and silently, slipping through
undergrowth, overhead overweight branches grew.
Dark and the mistiness masking its timelessness
tirelessly tracking its intended prey.
Waiting, inflating its hood but so patiently,
scenting its solitary source of success. Which was
suspecting nothing, the animal forages
never the less he is very aware. This is
dangerous due to the darkest of denizens
hiding, abiding, residing close by. But his
hunger has harried him out of his lair, into
forests of plenty so full of despair.
Death was a certainty, hunger, the guarantee
as it will always be. Snakes hunt at night.