Ima Ryma


Flying Snake


The humans spot a U.F.O.
Turns out to be a flying snake -
Paradise tree snake - doncha know?
A flying saucer shape we make.
We belly scale way up a tree,
Decide to where we want to fly.
Safer in air travel we be,
To go from tree to tree by sky.
Suck in tummy, flatten out bod,
Then thrusting out, up and away,
An undulating shooting wad,
Optimal air pressure at play.

We snakes know the humans are there,
Awed by us flying through the air.

Submitted: Thursday, March 20, 2014
Edited: Thursday, March 20, 2014

Topic of this poem: animals


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