The Diamond Python

Under a dome of unrelenting blue

we follow a high plateau

littered with spring flowering,

drop into a gully, cross a creek, 

wind our way along the sandstone cliff face,

bend beneath overhangs, squeeze 

through narrow gaps between boulders

until finally, there it is, a large shaded rock shelf

overlooking a spectacular network of chasms,

sheer sandstone cliffs sunlit in their ancient weathering,

distant waterfall a wind-blown silver thread,

river unspooling through the green grey scrub,

air full of wind sound and bird song.

We drop our packs, sit in the shade.

We think we have this solitary place to ourselves,

until the owner casually drops in

and pokes his diamond head 

through a fissure next to an elbow.

He slithers casually over a backpack,

unhurriedly follows our retreating feet,

unfurling his nine feet of glory.

Large of head, diamond flecked, 

he carries the beauty of the night sky

along his thickly muscular length.

He moves from person to person,

slowly traverses the overhang

and then, branch by branch,

with long practised ingenuity

hauls his limbless mass up a tree.

Time passes.

The ancient cliffs grow shadows.

We must retrace our steps, 

leave this privileged place 

but as we go we carry in our packs

a weight of thankfulness for the diamond Python,

for the gift he has given us,

for his beauty, size, grace and power

and especially for his casual indifference

towards we mere puny humans

now struggling and labouring homewards

through his beauty-filled world.

First published at Naturewriting.com