THURSDAY
(c) Laura Stamps
After the plumber,
who likes cats, fixed the
leaky pipe in the kitchen;
after my energetic cat
sneezed into a pyramid
of drywall dust, freckling
her kohl face with sandy
snowflakes; I stand
in the garden, watering
lilies and daisies, when
a tiny lizard, only an
inch in length, dives
from a leaf to avoid the
blue lake pooling from
the hose, and dashes up
the siding on the house.
I watch him climb for
a while, then turn away
to a bed of geraniums,
but glancing back, I
notice he has vanished.
Walking to the porch,
I find him two feet above
my head, dangling by
his tail from the white
whisker of a spider web,
his arms and legs
extended like an open
hand, frozen in flight.
The broom sweeps him
to safety, as I remove
the web glued to his tail,
and he scampers down
the brick steps, his chest
thumping, remembering
the time when he hung
like a postage stamp
affixed to the pale
envelope of the sky;
yearning only to hop
through cool castles of
fern, dandelion, and ivy;
no longer envying
the glossy wings of the
swallowtail or dragonfly;
no longer burning with
lofty ideas of flight;
just another earth-
walker content to live
a luminous life.
**********
Hope you enjoy this poem! It is from my book "In the Garden."
(c) Laura Stamps
After the plumber,
who likes cats, fixed the
leaky pipe in the kitchen;
after my energetic cat
sneezed into a pyramid
of drywall dust, freckling
her kohl face with sandy
snowflakes; I stand
in the garden, watering
lilies and daisies, when
a tiny lizard, only an
inch in length, dives
from a leaf to avoid the
blue lake pooling from
the hose, and dashes up
the siding on the house.
I watch him climb for
a while, then turn away
to a bed of geraniums,
but glancing back, I
notice he has vanished.
Walking to the porch,
I find him two feet above
my head, dangling by
his tail from the white
whisker of a spider web,
his arms and legs
extended like an open
hand, frozen in flight.
The broom sweeps him
to safety, as I remove
the web glued to his tail,
and he scampers down
the brick steps, his chest
thumping, remembering
the time when he hung
like a postage stamp
affixed to the pale
envelope of the sky;
yearning only to hop
through cool castles of
fern, dandelion, and ivy;
no longer envying
the glossy wings of the
swallowtail or dragonfly;
no longer burning with
lofty ideas of flight;
just another earth-
walker content to live
a luminous life.
**********
Hope you enjoy this poem! It is from my book "In the Garden."