It was a very hot day when I happened upon this scene:

It really bears no relation to it, but the Douglas Livingstone poem, Sunstrike, immediately came to mind:

A solitary prospector
staggered, locked in a vision
of slate hills that capered
on the molten horizon.
Waterless, he came to where
a river had run, now a band
flowing only in ripples
of white unquenchable sand.
Cursing, he dug sporadically
here, here, as deep as his arm,
and sat quite still, eyes thirstily
incredulous on his palm.
A handful of alluvial
diamonds leered back, and more: mixed
in the scar, glinted globules
of rubies, emeralds, onyx.
And then he was swimming in fire
and drinking, splashing hot halos
of glittering drops at the choir
of assembled carrion crows.

I have not identified this beautiful creature.

Postscript: Having looked at the beautiful photographs on I am inclined to agree with Lettingnaturebackin (see comment below) that this is a Cape Girdled Lizard.

15 thoughts on “SUNSTRIKE

  1. That is quite a poem – the real beauty of the creation and all mixed up with also natural, but tragic, tricks the mind can play on us. I can see why it came to mind, in the middle of a drought, on a hot day.


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