Lee Evans

The head of a water snake
Bobs through his element,
His dark body oscillating
Underneath the waves.

Soon he writhes upon the shore,
Disappearing in the rushes
Gradually, as the river
Slithers from his sinuous form.

Meanwhile I stoop with pain
And stumble to my feet,
A paintbrush in my hand—
And wish I were as lithe as he.

But Kundalini takes the time
I need to keep my house repaired.
A serpent need not stain a deck
And sacrifice a day in June.