In the realm where whispers weave,
Through grass and stone they silently cleave,
A dance of grace, a slither of might,
Underneath the pale moonlight.

Scales like jewels, glimmering bright,
In the sun’s embrace or the cloak of night,
Eyes that hold the secrets untold,
Stories of ages, wise and old.

The earth their canvas, the sky their song,
A symphony of nature where they belong,
In every twist, in every turn,
Lessons of patience we can learn.

Fear not the serpent’s gentle allure,
For in its presence, hearts find cure,
A symbol of life, of renewal and change,
In the cycle of nature vast and strange.