With my unexpected lizard wife
Where half-expected monsoon rains
Tear tiny bits of roofs and soil away,
Accidental sculptors that only work
In pathetically fallacious fits,
Then go to sleep for half a year
While the precarious sandstone piles
Left crack an odd hard frost at a time
And wait on the next fire or next rain.
No verbs wanted here, just thick
Ochre begging beggar's description
And lizards, saints in my age of sage.