Quiet Company

How lovely, the eyes

of a lizard, so keen and honest

Like those of this

common fence lizard,

the one who has just now

tilted his head at an angle,

so as better to behold me

He gazes, making some

appraisal of my character,

for what must be a long time

in the life of a lizard,

then he turns his body

toward the sun and sets back

to his original instructions

How strange and old it is,

this yearning in me to be

held long in the gaze of another,

to by gaze be judged worthy

of quiet company, of silently

sharing this old porch

in the afternoon light

How often are such

yearnings unmet,

simply by forgetting?

Forgetting, to give this world,

and all its creatures,

the modest effort

of attention

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