Transit

Long after the journey
Has ended
The feet are stll walking
In the distant hill
Where you even waited for the mist to lift
To catch a glimpse of the city
You wished you need not have to go back to
Pointing excitedly at the landmarks seen --
Patches of green and brown
The river merely a puddle
Foreshortened tiled buildings
Interspersed with a few taller ones
The temple towers distinct
The cow hill and the elephant hill
Looking a little out of focus.
It takes a while
For the eyes to revert
From the cottages, slopes and valleys
To the traffic, tumult and dust
For the ears to shrug off the train and bird song
For the lungs to stop aching for rain
The damp air and the smell of greenery.
It's like being in a half-way house
Half-dreaming and half-awake
But on Monday morning
When the alarm rings
You are fully awake
The kitchen light is on
And the cooker is whistling again.