Ode to the Chameleon

Little shape shifter, lingering
there on your quotidian twig
of indifference, you are a glimpse
of a rainbow, your eyes an iota
of amber. If nature is mind,
it knows you are always
true, daring the human eye
to see deeper. You are envy
& solace approaching green,
no more than an eye blink
in a corner of the Old World.
You are a tilt of the head
& vantage point, neither this
nor that, clearly prehistoric
& futuristic, & then you are
gone. In your little theater
of osmosis, you're almost
a piece of tropical work woven
from the alchemist's skin habit.
Called into the hanging garden,
you sit there, almost unseen
as dusky shadows climb
the blooming Judas tree.

Copyright © 2009 Yusef Komunyakaa All rights reserved
from Northwest Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission