Along with trickster figures, featured in the last poem I posted, I also tend to write about creation myths. I was raised with the Genesis story and still find it fascinating. 

I didn’t have access to my computer the other night when this poem drifted into my mind, so I tapped it out on my phone. It’s not my preferred method of writing, but any port in a storm.

Myth

Do you aspire to greatness?
the serpent curled near the
base of the flowering tree
asked me, as if I could speak.

I watched the sun bleed into
the clouds and made my choice.
Somewhere in the undergrowth,
creation itself groaned, and I with it.