The King Snake

Grammy cultivated her garden with panache In her day, the garden was food on the table So many staples---Potatoes, beans, squash You ate what you grew and even the crumbs My grandmother’s thumb was so green It could have grown green thumbs Her garden was a luscious patch Corn taller than my grandpa's head Her scrumptious tomatoes had no match Working in the garden at high noon Tired and spent, hot or cold…there she was Grandpa’s hat on, humming a tune No fear at Grammy’s house…hmmmm, is that the hose? On the sidewalk, a huge, stripped king snake coiled He raised his head and hissed, owning me head to toes Screaming and running into the corn rows Ophidiophobia…new phobia for me Repulsion of legless lizards within me grows Gradually, returned to the scene of the reptile That hissing, hideous thing was out of sight Grammy said he was hiding from me, the crazy child The first warm spring day, this serpent Old King, the king snake, slithered out “Why?” I asked her, “Why do you not kill it?” Her king snake patrolled to keep out things that robbed His presence—no rodents, snakes, rabbits, turtles Killed as though he knew it was his job They had an understanding…Grammy--the king She picked him up, placed him in a basket It felt like my grandma’s senses had taken wing My Grammy passed away two years ago I miss her so much…but I wonder-- Where did that King, the king snake, go? This is a true story. © a year ago, Carol Davis