Huffed-puffed, dusted myself down, a broken-ribbed umbrella

Mended-patched, stood up to again be held in some soft hand

A wet fist, a slightly desolate handkerchief

Noontime's end

Yet dust blows in the park

The sun like half-molten wax

A hailstorm, again a tumble into the deep

I have no job, nothing else to do on this afternoon of delight.

Asa Karim is a free-lance writer/translator.