Literary Response

In May, the author tells of his/her chance d eachy with a copperhead on the avenue hotshot night as it cast golden under the street lamp, silent and distort and fearless. Having long cherished to specify one, he/she kneels d induce transfixed, fascinated by its lethal grace, its organism unlike the park black and green and garter glides that evince unaccompanied shyness here is a current devastation striker deep voltaic pile arms reach. The author remembers non its distinct markings or coat or a nonher(prenominal) physical characterstic other than the fact that its head is wedge-shaped and fell back to the unexpected slimness of a neck, its body thick, tense and electric. He/she moves a little, catching the creatures attention it jerks as if to attack, and he/she jumps back. The ophidian flows on crossways the road and down into the dark, go forth him/her alone to contemplate the woods and the stars.Only a reptile, precisely what feelings it does evoke contact the copperhead is an exciting experience that leaves one more capable of appreciating life. I hope to look into incessantlyything in this world before I die, says the author, discourse of a hope that is uniquely human. The poem captures an moving picture, a feeling, and by so doing prints an image of the poet as well curious, contemplative, daring, desirous to embark on a quest to discover everything that life has to offer.Almost everyone shares the authors esteem to see everything in this world before he/she dies, like the boy in Van Dykes The Blue Flower who, seeing his own burial lot already allotted to him, becomes terribly restless, longing to see the world and to taste happiness before his time comes to sleep down the stairs the elm tree where his future graveyard lies. Such, to my mind, is the authors keen she is drawn to the copperhead as a moth is drawn to a flame, or a soldier lured to the battlefield, not by dreams of glory and honor, and by some vague notion that a typesetters case-to-face confrontation with death would make him better appreciate the joy of living. merely why does one cause to look for frenzy in things as wild, as unpredictable, as hurtful as a copperhead? Perhaps, humans are drawn to the snake by the realization that they have a thing in common a vulnerability without the fang. Remove mans weapons, and he is but a feeble animal. Of course, one erect learn everything most snakes by dint of books or the Internet or the science lab. The author, if he/she wants to, can bet the copperhead in its glass cage as it sleeps, coiled and undisturbed. except a snake in the open, especially in ones yard, al miens strikes terror.Like the serpent in the garden of Eden, it suggests cunning, mystery, power. Gliding and winding and recoiling, it has a beauty that seduces and mesmerizes. One must see a real snake up close and personal to have a glance of the real world. In this regard, to see everything does not only if amount to v iewing things finished a microscope, or watching a lion in its realm in the veldt from the safety of a car. It is akin to courting hazard for the love of being scared, to feel ones blood beat upon coming face to face with real-life demons. It is not seeing the world the way a tourist normally does, nor as a nature sports fan admires butterflies. Nor is it a foolhardy mans courtship of danger. The author does not go out of his/her way to meet the snake it happens by chance. His/her wish to see everything in this world does not necessarily refer to reservation a solo voyage across the ocean, or free-falling from a cliff, or climbing the Himalayas because its there. It is not seeking danger for its sake, but determination comfort in deliverance when real danger comes along.The authors desire to see everything in this world before dying echoes Thoreaus self-admonition on his quest, living by himself in the woods, to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life . . . to drive li fe into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms (Walden). Mays author whitethorn not have gone to the extent of exploring the earths frontiers, at least not that we know of, to see everything in this planet his/hers is solitary(prenominal) a hope, perhaps a childish one, for nobody can ever hope to see everything in a multiple of lifetimes. It is a muscular voice, nonetheless, emanating from within, that is ever so heard above the din of humanity.In a sense, May is Rubaiyat-like in its simplicity make the most of what we may yet spend,/ Before we also into the Dust Descend. Of course, May never tells us to indulge before we die, nor does it lecture or call our attention to the plight of endangered species. But it gives an impression of urgency life is excessively short to be squandered on trivial pursuits.The author sees the copperhead not in some retract but in an inhabited town, perhaps a city grace by woods, illumined not by the sun or moon but by a street lamp. Perha ps it is a reminder of our proportion with the wild. Maybe it is one way of telling us that material console and soft living have deprived us of the age-old pauperism to go out and face our monsters. After the copperhead has flown across the road and down into the dark, the author stood a while, listening to the small sounds of the woods and flavour at the stars. He/she notes that later on excitement we are so reposeful and that when the thumb of fear lifts, we are so alive. Restfulness and vivacity are the aftermath of excitement and fear. But is it possible to become restful and alive at the alike(p) time? Meditative, or thoughtful, would be more apt. One can be brimming with life and excitement level(p) when check to a sickbed.The encounter with the copperhead heightens the authors appreciation of natures other gifts, such as the small sounds of the woods and a view of the stars. At night, one can hear faint stirrings in the forest as predator and prey make their nocturn al rounds a squirrel being caught in a coyotes jaws, a rat being snatched by an owl on the wing. Yet humans do not in reality know, cannot really comprehend the life-and-death struggles that occur in their midst unless they too assume the role of predator or prey, killer or victim. The agent is excited by the fact that it has power over the weak the latter(prenominal) by the fact that it can outrun, even outwit, its pursuer. Has this not been the lot of all creatures since time began? In meeting the copperhead, the author unexpectedly catches a glimpse of what life really consisted of before civilization. By listening to the woods, one can hear the coming and going of life. By looking at the stars, one can wish life would go on forever.Every human at some point early in life feels an itch to come out out and conquer the world, like the frog in the parable of the well, or like the pioneers in the old West who could not settle down despite the abundance of game and the rich land of the frontier they always wanted to move on, to find out what lay over the opinion all the way to the Pacific. That is mans nature, and nothing has stopped him not if it took all the copperheads in the world to go and see what there is to find, even if it would only lead to frustration and despair. Every person yearns to find his/her El Dorado.May suggests endless possibilities, once-in-a-lifetime chances, secrets waiting to be discovered, if only we are willing to face them. Day after day we meet common people that do not impress us by their shyness, ordinary people, boring people. The passing(a) routine becomes a blur and before we know it we are old, confined to a wheelchair, unsure of whether or not we had ever lived at all. But once in a rare while we come across a deadly copperhead.May is all about someones feelings after a brush with a poisonous snake. Maybe it is not about crossing the Sahara or climbing Mount Everest after all, but simply a matter of having to confront our own copperheads as we chance upon them in our everyday lives.WORKS CITEDDyke/The_Blue_Flower/>Khayyam, Omar. The Rubaiyat. 31 May 2007. <http//www.okonlife.com/poems/page2.htm>