arcana

deep beneath the soothing dirt
of barren lands, the lizard sleeps
and far from green and noisy strands
his quiet, lonely vigil keeps

he knows the silence of the dust
and how the heat drives men to drink
and why the wind said that we must
and what the passing beetles think

so while we shuffle through the sand
arriving where we'd rather not
the lizard understands
the sun is hot

* ****** **** ****** *

see "one more time, my hot little lizard"