Lizards

Image by Samiul Ahmed

I watch a lizard on a stump, raising and lowering its miniature dinosaur head, politician personified, seeming reasonable in his/her/its/their search for a fly or some other errant bug, unaware of the danger of its time.

The lizard is motionless, now, exhibiting the patience of lizards that only lizards know, and if we were lizards, would we have their capacity? If we were, we would have.  But we aren’t. For  all our capabilities, we seem more like flies than lizards.

The lizard has turned and disappeared below the horizon of the stump.  A wise move, I would say.  And why ‘would?’ Why not just say? Because to say is to confess to having nothing else to say. That may be best.  That makes me more lizard than fly.