Now you see it / now you don’t. As if energised by the rain, the ground shifts in numerous places
simultaneously: now in front, now behind. Now beneath the pond, now around the bank, now beyond. Now under my knuckles. Now under my knees.
Too close for comfort. I start back, away from it. Then I can take it all in - its undulating movements animating the foundation. The ground churning. Now and then (or now and now – and now! And now! And now!) its skin can be seen, glinting silver. And it’s enormous: a monster. I’m reminded suddenly, incongruously, of the encyclopaedias I’d kneel and learn of heraldry in: a serpent, argent. A snake, rampant. An adder, courant. In the reflection of the heavens, the clouds have gained negative height,
turned to inverse nimbus. Around it, the Nāga turns and turns up and down, in and out between the liminals of the elements… nimble as lightning through the muck! Until, eventually, I notice it’s forming into an unbroken ring.
For #NaPoWriMo2018 I set myself the task …