The Least of It


He thought he shared the universe with all;
Heard many voices in response remand
An inundation—words unlike his call,
From the desert-bare cliff across the sand.
Some morning from the parched and thirsty ground
He would yell in rage regarding this thing
To not have his voice smothered by the sound
But attentive silence there listening
And something small came out of what he yelled
A slithering embodiment converged
In the cliff's toppled talus it dwelled
But then from the far distant heat emerged
And after time allowed for it to skim,
It almost acted human when it neared
Unlike the crowds additional to him,
The solitary lizard thus appeared,
Leaving a soft but clear track in the sand
It stopped sedate in silence then it bore
Itself beneath the sun-baked grainy land,
It waited for the night—and nothing more.

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A Tribute to Robert Frost written in his style,
and in juxtaposition to his poem, The Most of It

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© 2013 NavWorks Press and DE Navarro. All rights reserved.

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Published in Dare to Soar, 2013. Available at any bookstore worldwide.

Or order a signed copy direct from The Curio 

DE Navarro teaches poetry and runs a poetry WordShop™ at We Write Poetry

This poem is about: 
Our world

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