In shadow darkened pine. Serpents slither while ivy climbs.
Creeping steps on crusted ground. Shallow breath, slow and sound.
Torch a blaze when the moons are bright. This open space, ideal to hide.
Eyes that glare direct indeed. Best to doubt that I am seen.
Pressing forward through the light. For chameleon is my innate right.
I've tread the path and reached my goal. With happy heart, I am home.