The Chameleon Crawl.
The baby, palms planted,
arms straight and stomach grounded,
moves with........not a crawl,
more of a mudskipper wriggle.
Next day, same stance,
gingerly brings both knees forward,
belly and pelvis now precariously hoisted
ten centimetres up;
the body plane tracing
a slight asymmetrical figure of eight
on four unsteady limbs,
like a table top with loose pinned legs.
Tiny hip and shoulder joints;
slippery as beginners on skates.
Tender muscles twitching.
Brain and nerves fully engaged;
sensory input, predictions, transmissions,
feedbacks and adjustments,
all faster than conscious thought.
The newly raised bottom has tilted
the angle of his disproportionately large head
a few degrees towards the horizontal,
suggestive of an imminent forward topple.
He slants limbs aft, to compensate.
Then, one hand is lifted, replaced, lifted again
and precisely placed, just ahead of the other.
A cautious knee follows suit;
miniscule progression.
He surveys his world, swaying back and forth.
The baby, just seven months old,
is presenting his impression of
the chameleon's particular
and delicately hesitant gait.
This enchanting stage will be fleeting.
Presently, he will be demonstrating-
the determined wombat's stomp.
poem by Diane Hine
Added by Poetry Lover
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