Foggy Mornings

At this time of the year, we usually have foggy mornings in southern Bengal. A foggy morning takes my mind to my childhood days in the north. In those days I used to reach my school with drops of fog on my hair, my pullover and my school bag.

Light always wins the race

Trees in fog

Fog over the paddy fields
Fog over the grassy leas,
Floating over rolling rivers
Hovering over sleepy seas.

Fog over the green tea bushes
Fog over the misty mounts,
Robing the trees in milky white
Confusing my repeated counts.

Fog blocking my seeking eyes
Fog hiding my beloved sight,
Turning the Sun into the moon
Prolonging the loaded night.

Fog wetting my curly hair
Fog dampening my tidy dress,
Freezing my tender fingers
Turning my games to mess.

Fog, have your own jolly time
Fog, have your full fun hour,
It’s sure like the Sun above
There’s an end to your power.


I’ll stand in a sunny patch
Feeling the rays on my face,
Between light and darkness
It’s light that always wins the race.

By Xavier Bage
February20, 2015