descending a mountain of snakes

I dreamed them, one early morning
My body lying beside you in bed
My dream-mind still with you, picking its way along a mountain slope
And then there were the snakes

Looking down at my feet,
they seemed to leak from and over the rocks like a spring
already flooding over my ankles, swimming over each other towards the way I'd already come.
My heart fluttered panic, then still.

They seemed not to notice;
fixed unblinking eyes on their own horizon.
They hadn't come for me.

I could choose to fear them, and in doing so, cause commotion.
I focused on my own horizon; let them keep theirs.

A fate that has not come for you has no fangs.
My mind focused on their faces. Snakes of all different colors and sizes.
Smooth like grass and rough like flowing boulders.

My dream-fears, seeking confirmation of danger, identified one in particular
an adder or rattle-shape, cheeks fat with poison
yellow slit eyes staring straight ahead; not at me.
I was but a boulder in his landscape.

I breathed a sigh of relief atop my own mental tightrope.
One misstep could prompt a thousand poisoned teeth.
But, only if I drew attention with fear.
I breathed in and out in this valley. The sun was out.

These fates were not mine unless I chose to demand their attention.
I breathe out again, grateful for tightrope practice
and content to keep the egos of my fears invisible.

Grateful that I can look to my own horizon and let my fears choose theirs.
Grateful for being exactly where and when I am:
Descending a mountain, with snakes not meant for me.

One by one,
I respectfully lifted my feet,
and hopped down the rocks to join you.