This little guy is called a basilisk lizard or the Jesus
Christ lizard, because it can run on water.
And it liked to hang around and leave its tail in the pool
to cool off.
We went on a canopy walk, and there
was one member of our party who was deeply frightened
but did eventually get across these bridges.
They were about 80 feet off the ground.
It was hot.
And again, I don't have any idea what this is.
So, Liz, if you know, I'd be glad to know.
That's what it looked like looking down.
And that's down.
Next, sideways.
And that's part way looking up.
And, forgive my imagination, but I
looked at the tingles of the strangler fig and saw lawsuits.
"Canopy Walk."
Bridges give, swing underfoot, hold
us suspended 80 feet up among towering rainforest treetops.
12 at once cross.
Steps shudder, bridge ripples each boot,
shifts solid assumptions, our weight
no longer where we planted.
Over the edge, strangler figs tangle, never
ending lawsuits starving out root and branch of one that
lifted toward light, tiny rooted epiphyte that
took over this host's life.
Now reaching down, the bountiful fig sinks in,
offers shelter, food, its questionable example
to all creatures from fern glade forest
floor through each branching story up into canopy,
green arc, a breath above us