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study of a baby rattlesnake
The little rattler sleeps on, snug
On the sunlit sandstone boulder, tho' oak shadow
Laps over him now. He has tucked in his head
Near the center of his close coils and folds.
It is getting on toward mid-morning.
His luck still holding, there in the open,
Against a cruising hawk or kingsnake,
He collects the stillness of his boulder, and its warmth,
Into a fi ne heavy medallion,
In his dark bronze markings.
at the concert, after a day up there
The succession of bright scenes passes through
involuntarily, over this fi ne old music:
you, Matilija, in the sun, spilling among boulders,
fl ashing in the shallows, pooled
beside damp shady stone, quick sway of leaves.