Witness my presence,
Eye my emerald hue.
Limbs abundant,
Never too much, never few.

To crawl that branch,
Green and old,
A chameleon on a tree,
Embracing the cold.

Melding with nature,
Instead of standing out,
Or else a hawk's eyes glean,
My bed his mouth.

Amidst luscious greenery,
I eat bit by bit,
Without turning it over,
Soon comes a completed orbit.

Witness my presence,
Curled into myself,
Hardened and no longer mush,
But a turtle in a shell.

In stillness, a chrysalis tightly wound,
As sunrays...