A Blue-Tongued Lizard




	She’s a blue tongued lizard and she suns herself, On a rock near a log; in our yard by the shed. If the dog’s awake she’s not to be found, You’d think she’d finally fled underground. Grandpa would say our garden was blessed, To have its own bluetongue; to make a warm nest, In the firm brown soil beneath that log, Carefully hidden from our wily dog. The seasons go and the seasons come, So does the lizard; in thrall to the sun. Forget about spiders and centipedes, They don’t stand a chance; with her creeping speed. Don’t grow strawberries; she’ll scoff the lot, Along with the snails that live in the plot. Flowers and berries; leaves and blooms, Beatles and hoppers; where’s that pooch! Don’t hold your breath; the day will come, A pair of babies asleep in the sand. Minding their business; ignoring their Mum. Waking to nibble at succulent plants. When the day a scorcher becomes, Into a drain she’ll scuttle at once. If you peer closely; keep very quiet, Soon you will see, just one little eye. Surveiling the world; from her damp cool cavern, Safe from the heat; in the height of the season. When the wind blows; the rain starts falling, Where has she gone; maybe next summer? *Ignatius Writealot*