Lizards Make Me Happy

First, because we have such a lot
Of them around here, bobbing and scurrying
And snapping up biting flies. That's good.
Also, they have bright blotches here and there,
An odd eye for detail that matters to them,
And their skin is dry and pleasant.
As far as I know from my experience,
If you can catch them, you can hold them.
They're good at escape, but locally
They are not poisonous and they slip
Through a child's fingers long before
They bite. They must bite sometimes,
But not that I've ever seen. Everything
Has a bite of some kind. We exist
As we do because we are the products
Of a world of biting, biting wit biting it.
But when I see the lizards running
Up the southern Utah stucco,
Over the local, sun-stunned walls,
I'm happy. God is fond of beetles.
The image of divinity feels entitled
To inordinately love something, too.
There goes one now, ridiculously
Serious little reptile, busy as me,
Ridiculously seriously happy monkey me.