IN THE COUNTRY COTTAGE by Nizzim Ezekiel
The night the lizard cam our indolence was great; we went to bed before our eyes were heavy, limbs prepared to stretch or love. Immobile, tense and grey, he taught us patience as he waited for the dark. From time to time we could not help but glance at him and learn again that he was more alive than us in silent energy, though his aim was only the death of cockroaches. When we awoke the next morning we found as we expected that the job was done, clean and complete, and the stout lizard gone.