A Simpler Life

     by Leslie Clark


On the garden wall, there’s a lizard, turquoise-throated,
back shimmering in shades of cobalt and grass-green,
trying to decide what to do, where to go next.
He raises his head up and down sporadically, 
as if trying to view something just above or below
his range of vision–perhaps his lunch, perhaps some predatory 
hawk overhead, or maybe something humans can’t fathom.
Finally, he scurries over the side and drops out of sight.

As I watch, I envy him his natural coloration, my favorite
clothing shades that I must purchase.
I don’t envy his fear of hawks, or his kind of food,
but do wonder what it might feel like to rest on a sun-warmed
wall, unworried about the novel chapters I’m not writing,
or the next visit to some doctor’s office, or my students
who can’t comprehend instructions, or if the stock market’s 
plummeting in the next few hours.  A simpler life.