The sun lingers- only just- on the squirrel's back- drinking dew-

Everything else is fog fog fog- the boy playing hide and seek-

Only plays half game- the girl goes to a school without the bell

That rings end- the temple's tower is not higher than the haze-

The old Mosque's wizened Gumbad is the same misty color-

And fades in- along with the Muezzin's Friday calls- the church

Goes too- with no Sunday promises- the oblong ground is a bowl

For the colloidal porridge- the evening grazers become early birds-

The song you sang in your soul this morning- silence of patience-

All the demons escaping when you blink- nothing evades the fog-

What is anything that does- distance is futile- and you think why you

Think- and go into the fog- or it comes into you- and the squirrel's

Bushy tail blocks the sun.

~Ajay
16/1/19