Harmattan

It is for sure that time of year
Dusty blanket over skyline; unclear
Leaves fall and greens begin a-fading
Sun dimming fullness of its glaring.

Icey fingers of gripping cold
Slip through shuttered windows
Stealing warmth like wily thief
Under cover of darkness.

Abandoned wears
Fluffy socks, scarves and mittens
Only then remembered
A friendship; soon rekindled.

Logs and bonfires begin to crackle
Host, to shuddering huddle of bodies
Heating soon becomes
Treasured necessity.

Streets and walkways deserted
As soon as dusk arrives
For all the men have gone home
To the waiting arms of their wives!

As I drop words in a juggle
I myself am snuggled
Upon cosy bed, in blanket
All comfy; fully wrapped.

So Welcome to Harmattan
Which some enjoy like diehard fan
While some dread for many a reason
This most cold and freezing season!

Haidarwali 201710250752hrs

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