I cautiously observe the snake,
no red and yellow,
no yellow or red.
Just a friendly rope
waiting for me at the stoop
basking in an afternoon sun.
It watches carefully
just in case I move too suddenly.
Instead I watch it bask
in the rising heat.
I wonder, will it need anything to drink?
I leave out a small disk of cool water.
Two hours later it’s gone.

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Mid-May when the afternoon turns mystical.
Now it’s a painted turtle sitting in the brush.
Feral cats scatter away from the visitor.
Had it climbed out from beneath the porch,
or did it cross the road from a vernal pool,
hoping to find a prime basking perch?
I am confused, but collect
a planter plate, add a stone
and pour cool water just an inch.
It furiously waves its legs
as I move it the eight inches
closer to a comfortable spot.
I wash my hands then return,
wondering where this neighbor came from.
Again, two hours later
my visitor disappeared,
never to return.

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On the last May Days it clung to the foundation,
gripping at the family home
above the garden I’ve kept loomy.
Another week later it starts,
as the garden hose inflates to life,
perhaps too much like a snake
as the tree frog scampers
from the hiding spot.
Again, shaded and dark hose bowl
slowed its escape and I catch
its stripy legs as it leaves.
Again I wonder of the vernal pools.
Are these creatures being pushed out?
Or perhaps there is a haven
for wildlife under the deck.
It disappears between the cracks,
leaving me to grapple with
mixed emotions.

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