What would you do, crow,

without this white butterfly

for your midday snack?

Wind

Wind, relentless wind!

The sparrow gives up singing

long before midday.

Silence

a midday silence—

even the mice stop gnawing

the old foam pillow

In the flowerbed

a lizard hides at midday

from the blinding sun.

in the beggar’s bowl

shadows from a dragon kite

for his midday meal

first week of the year—

fluffing my goose-down pillow

for a midday nap

closing the print shop

for a midday siesta

near the letterpress

nattering crickets

disturbing her midday nap—

frayed hems on the sheets

his power puddling

the emperor of ice-cream*

melting at midday

* cf. “The Emperor of Ice-Cream” by Wallace Stevens