Beneath the moon’s soft, silvery light,
In shadows where secrets entwine,
Glides a serpent in graceful flight,
Its silent path a whispered line.
The scales shimmer like fallen stars,
As it weaves through the tangled green,
A guardian of ancient scars,
A keeper of the unseen.
With eyes that hold the night’s deep lore,
It listens to earth’s quiet breath,
A creature of myth and ancient yore,
Dancing on the edge of life and death.
In its presence, the forest pauses,
A reverence in the air so clear,
For the snake speaks in subtle clauses,
A language only the wild can hear.