The white chameleon

jumps off

the magnolia flower

into

the late spring afternoon.

turning violet in air,

she scampers

under the wet rocks

near the waterfall,

and dark blue

deep blue havens,

where she lies

waiting

for the colorless night,

where the red

summers last,

and time

unravels

spring from a ball of twine,

and the endless days,

where the chameleon

takes her turn

sipping

from the fountains of Avalon,

the other creatures

watch,

as the turquoise child

finds dancers

in the waves,

spying them with contempt,

or reverence,

she rushes to the grass,

and turns green.