I lay across the hammock on
an early summer’s day
and pushed my toes against the deck,
which made the hammock sway.
My thoughts rose up above the clouds
then drifted far away.
When suddenly my peaceful state
was shattered by a sound:
a scuffing as a something moved
quite fast across the ground.
I pulled my toes in close to me
and bravely looked around.
The deadly snake that I was sure
was there for me to find,
with fearsome fangs inside its head,
its body stretched behind,
was just a silly figment of
my overactive mind.
I laughed out loud to see it there:
a little lizard, nothing more!
There’s no way it would hurt me
with its harmless looking jaw.
Its stumpy legs could barely lift
its belly off the floor!
I leant my face down close to it
and said, ‘Now what are you?’
The lizard hissed and showed its tongue:
a murky shade of blue.
I knew at once what it was called.
I think that you might, too.
© Kristin Martin 2013
This poem is also in my poetry book, To Rhyme or Not to Rhyme? (Glimmer Press, 2019).