Smoke

The black column upward surging

From mill chimney hurtling

Writhing, twisting

Does with ire it frowns

Or for fresh air, it gasps

Tumbling out with relief it exhales

Up, up into thin air it vanishes

Does it just pollute the air?

For human life it doesn’t care?

Nay, it’s not born just to mingle into nothingness

Or to make surrounding dingy and filthy

Out from chimney this black giant

Swirls up and reborn in

Those small cozy hearths

In huts of distant hamlets

From where groups of men leave every morning

With lunch pack of hot bread in hand

Women stand on doors waving

Kids in lap and playing

The orange flames of evening fire of hearth

In their eyes dancing

And the black swirling giant out of mill chimney

Bears all the curse flung

Tightly holding on

All the hopes of homes it hung

Blending with the blue expanse

Life’s aim fulfilled.