Cobra dell

Cobra dell

The sleeping hill is a host of trees.
Fine shade furnished through, the tropical cobra sees.
The knotches on the palms are like the marks across it´s belly.

In a dead frond it hides the sunshy snake.
Puddles of water surround from last nights deluge,
seeping into the valleys lowland lakes.
Now it slithers out between the puddles it goes.
Dreaming of a fat rat in it´s mouth amidst death throes.