A Snake In The Wind Poem by Tony Adah

A snake is a snake
No matter its infant looks
Or how innocent it crawls
Or how weak and frail its infant fangs
May be;
It grows up
A big snake and live
All to its attributes
Whether green, grey, black or red
The venom is always green
In a pouch of death.
A shredded black paper bag
Flew in the wing
And everyone ran away
Thinking it was a snake.
I took a stick
And held it in my heart
The man that I am and moved
Against the wind and took hold
Of the shredded paper in the wind.
The cowards cried
That I was dead
I moved towards the frightened horde
Scampering for safety
I am a magician
Or mine is finished, they cried for me!
I quickly put the snake
In the side pocket of my pants
And when they saw no snake in my hands
They stopped with apprehension.
In their midst
I told them the truth of what it was
And showed them the snake
The colour of which they believed
Their nerves calmed
But they told me
A snake is a snake
Whether dead or alive
Infant or adult
And for all this it is the length
Of this creature and its wriggling moves
That they fear.