At least the finite will keep the breath intact
In the end , till the mountains in a blue haze
The twin hills that seemed to climb the sky
For a telltale eagle to beat about the bush.

The bush does nothing except to sit pretty
The lizard is its home ,a destination comfort
An earth not moving away to a far off near.

Bushes do not move but think as if to move
But not to a shocking loss of their finiteness
To indifferent infinity of hills not being there.

In a bokeh of a pure view I shall fix the focus
Round the lizard to rescue bush and myself
From the infinity of a bare naked visual field.