Maybe someday
we could be small, like this
lizard that pumps twice and settles
on red siltstone absorbing the morning sun.
Maybe someday we will learn,
not in any conscious way,
but in our bones and skin,
to blend with sandscapes,
rockscapes, fallen leaves. To accord
with earth's own rough hide, with life's debris
scattered under our feet, to burnish
our bellies with ages
broken and deposited. Maybe we
can look this good, someday,
the pulsebeat in our throats
transforming light, shooting a rainbow
with every breath.