(Xantusiidae Vigilis)
You crawl back in through crevices
in the adobe wall
beautiful and bedraggled
from the heat, the scent of fire.
Your skin absorbs the coolness
of this house and reflects the light. Its shade
a blend of wheat and moss,
the hue of Galadriel's hair
( for whom I have named you)
and the brownish green of the hobbit's
middle earth, But yours is between
the Sonoran sky and ground,
the wood shrubs of the chaparral
and spiked towers of the Yucca.
You know the magic of the smaller world
where the beetle becomes a compass
for rain and a need for persistence,
where the wings of moth or bird
sense the earth's pulse, how far her breath
will burn through hills and canyons.
You come into this house
asking for refuge and water --
to bless and warn. Your eyes
carry the foreshadowing
of our next story,
your long tail
the lineage of the desert.
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