Dusk edges in, tingeing
the toasted sky with rich indigo,
complimenting the petrichor-sweet air.
Responding to this fading light,
gardens clear of boots and digging tools,
tatty footballs, hula hoops,
water pistols,
and saliva-drenched chew toys.
Whispering, Safety announces its arrival;
golden-grey faces appear
from rockeries and log piles,
tongues flick-flicking, sampling opportunity.
Bellies empty, these legless lizards
emerge like streams of liquid metal rippling across the lawn.
Each individual chooses its prey;
some take earthworms,
letting the pink wrigglies touch their nostrils,
roll towards their mouths, even,
before stretching jaws wide
to swallow the creature whole.
Others capture insects, spiders, slugs –
maybe a snail, if up for the challenge –
retreating to cosy hideouts
only when their energy is spent,
resting for the next adventure.
This poem is part of a project I’m doing to raise money for the RSPB, a UK wildlife conservation and protection charity. If you’d like to help, please share this poem to encourage others to take joy in nature, and if you have the time and means to donate, you can do so here. Let’s help keep our wildlife wild!
[Apologies for how these poems are formatted. I do write them in stanzas, but WordPress rarely decides to keep them, no matter how much I argue with it.]
Treeshallow Musings 