Bouncing on the springs of green leaves, he jumps.
Leaping quietly up one side and down another in obscurity to others.
He calls in crimson bellows for a mate.
She scurries off on the callow umbrage below.
Crimson bellows swell furiously again
while he slowly fingers through the jungle anew.
Creeping...crawling...leaping...longing...
Little green tails swish between the foliage and disappear. ஐ
Precisely the least, the softest,
lightest, a lizard's rustling,
a breath, a flush, a moment --
a little makes the way of best happiness.
~Friedrich Nietzsche
A lizard sat upon my wall.
He looked so happy, green, and small.
"What scaly thoughts are in your head?"
"I'm thinking of my bike," he said.
"Your bike?" with shock I did reply.
"I did not know that you could ride
A bicycle. I thought you crawled
Across the ground and right up the walls."
"Yes, well, you are mistaken, lad,"
My lizard said, a wee bit mad.
And from behind my potted plant,
He took a bicycle and sat
Upon his teeny tiny seat
And pedaled off with lizard feet.
~Elizabeth Tidy
He viewed us, as we passed him by,
With calm and yet with questioning eye,
But moveless still, as though the stone
Were portion of his being's own.
~Edward Robeson Taylor
At noon in the desert a panting lizard
waited for history, its elbows tense,
watching the curve of a particular road
as if something might happen.
~William Stafford
