At noon in the desert a panting lizard <br />waited for history, its elbows tense, <br />watching the curve of a particular road <br />as if something might happen. <br /> <br /> <br />It was looking at something farther off <br />than people could see, an important scene <br />acted in stone for little selves <br />at the flute end of consequences. <br /> <br /> <br />There was just a continent without much on it <br />under a sky that never cared less. <br />Ready for a change, the elbows waited. <br />The hands gripped hard on the desert.<br /><br />William Stafford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-the-bomb-testing-site/
