The fog
Fog smoky darkness
Mixed in the air
Mixing the air within itself
Absorbing the light
Like death
Reinless, fast-moving cars
Lifting and panting
Like blinders
Lifting the feet of their wheels
Like a blind man's stick
The headlights of the cars
Even though they look,
Cannot see anything
The light of a city shrouded in fog
Also sinks in the fog
The Sun God lifting and panting
Searching for his earth
On earth to set his light
A foothold, Coolness!
A blanket of fog lights up its fire
With the heat of the smoldering wood
Man wants to burn, The blanket of fog
Birds, even while drenched in fog,
keep their inner wings puffed up
they despise the fog
The fog robs them of the soft warmth of their wings
the intoxicating cacophony of birdsong
like stunned echoes and blind, shrunken silence
They search for the sky above the fog
and for the sun's rays
because the particles of light
are bright grains for the hungry eyes
with which they search
for the golden ear of ripe fields.
In the fog's cold people warm
by constantly rubbing their own palms
like a bonfire
With the heat of their palms
warming their faces against the fog
Thank you so much for reading. Have a great day 😊🙏 @vikbuddy
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