(Bahadur Hussain)

When days fade, And nights grow
I go in fields to see the scarecrow
While darkness crush through the wind
And fuzzy humid air blows through the mist
Owls fly widening the wings in
The round glowing moon


And swaying dappled long fields
Mysterious howling fog upon
The shimmering of the moon on lake
Submerges the poet inside me
He decays slowly
People…criminal
In the procession of my funeral...