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 the 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 shocking loss of their finiteness
To breathless infinity of a brown hillscape.
In Bokeh of a pure view I shall fix the focus
Round the lizard to rescue bush and myself
From the infinity of bare naked visual field.