High Noon Ghost

Nor do I know
What ending stirs. Sometimes
A lizard, mid-morning bound,
Will dart to the center of some broad path
And seize, panting, amid the motioned drift –

Not yet seen until breathing.

All around
Are others – each, a lizard
In midst of all other ways
Of lizards – 

Some breathe, and some
Are seen. All are caught
By sun, halfway-bridged 
Twixt dawn and high noon’s
Certainty, a time the Greeks saw ghosts. 

I stand, and, breathing,
Lizards see me
Caught 

Until high noon. 

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