Field notes for April 5th

I spotted that serpent
Walking in a minor wood
Why I would recoil instinctive
From a black and yellow ribbon
And he from me
I may know

So I kneel
In leaf and needle
On root and soil
And ask sincerely
To return an apple

Because

I know the story
The book that says you’re to blame
But don’t believe it
The fall from glory
The exile
The shame

It was not me who took your bate
Your trick, your treat, the pomegranate
When
The meadow, the forest,
Are all a garden
And I’m constantly finding myself in Eden

But among me
There are those too blind
To see a snake is not a fiend
Just another
Brother in the garden