Sitting in a purple tree,
with leaves of orange and green
the black iguana sits carefrer,
and contemplates a curious scene.

Below him on the forest floor
a steady line of ants emerge,
green ones from a red oak door,
with no walls and no floor.

Key ants? He wonders not quite aloud,
He drops down to try and see,
He launches his tongue so pink and proud,
and cathes snts, not one, but three.

Expecting citrus, **** and sweet,
as razored bites makes them pop,
licorice, yuck that is no treat,
he wipes his tongue to make it stop.

The other ants laugh with Glee,
the iguana turns from black to red,
extensor claws appear and ants flee
to late a swping claw strkes them dead.