The Branch Blinked

A BRANCH BLINKED
September 17, 2006

A branch blinked
and turned its head like
a leaf in the wind
then lifted itself off the
ground and moved a
tongue, a lid, a shin.

It stood and, lifting bars
of black came down
the track towards me.
From my lofty seat
with head in clouds
I thought this ‘branch’ would flee,

but it blinked and crawled
beneath my feet hid safe
in stirrup leather toes
and didn’t scramble, frightened,
nor was in any way disturbed the way
the saurian usually goes,

pulling shadows down for
cover, holding rocks above
its creeping pate
so I didn’t nudge or squeeze
or ask my horse to go, but
kept still and in a quiet state

allowed the lizard space
to blink and turn and lift
and crawl about at leisure
while I sat and looked
and gaped and wondered
at my own indisputable pleasure.