Thank you for this poem.

I live near White Sands Missile Range and drive by the turn to Trinity Site, less than 20 miles away from ground zero, several times a year. Yet in almost 50 years I've never visited the place on the two days each year when it is open to the public. It's just one of those things. Often you hear that the bomb was exploded near Alamogordo, NM, where I was born. That could explain my red hair. But the closest place to it that's bigger than a prairie dog town is actually Socorro, which is also a word you can shout in Spanish if you're ever in dire need of help. Just another one of those things.

After the blast the desert floor was covered with green glass. Scientists believe that the explosion whipped up sand and then the mushroom cloud rained molten glass. How charming!

This excellent poem captures the significance of the moment--profound and transformational--as well as the shortsightedness of the venture and of the personalities involved in it.

It was looking at something farther off
than people could see, an important
scene
acted in stone for little selves
at the flute end of consequences.

Stafford chooses ready for a change to describe the lizard's elbows. That is an interesting way to describe it, because I think we typically say ready for a change when we mean eager for a change. Here I think he means braced for change.

This is not the kind of landscape poem described recently in other posts, but it is a scene setting snap shot that evokes a distinct landscape. It could be a ground level shot at the opening of a segment of a movie, like the outstanding documentary Atomic Cafe.