Late Autumn Poem by Ajit Das

A bit persistent, rain has finally left.
The sky is a stretch of blue,
withdrawn, uninterrupted.

An early ray drops a hint of laziness;
the dew lingers till the morning sun
picks it up

Trees drooping, as if in a trance,
wait for a whiff of wind
to rise, fondle the leaves.

A column of smoke from the roadside hut
spirals up, hangs in the air,
then disappears.

The aimless drift of few stray clouds
in the endless space takes away
all sense of haste.

A chill in the air brings an echo
of the hard squads of wintry days
marching in.